The wide Pacific waters 
And the Atlantic meet.
With cries of joy they mingle, 
In tides of love they greet. 
Above the drowned ages 
A wind of wooing blows: ? 
The red rose woos the lotos, 
The lotos woos the rose . . . 

The lotos conquered Egypt. 
The rose was loved in Rome. 
Great India crowned the lotos: 
(Britain the rose's home). 
Old China crowned the lotos, 
They crowned it in Japan. 
But Christendom adored the rose 
Ere Christendom began . . . 

The lotos speaks of slumber: 
The rose is as a dart. 
The lotos is Nirvana: 
The rose is Mary's heart. 
The rose is deathless, restless, 
The splendor of our pain: 
The flush and fire of labor 
That builds, not all in vain. . . . 

The genius of the lotos 
Shall heal earth's too-much fret. 
The rose, in blinding glory, 
Shall waken Asia yet. 
Hail to their loves, ye peoples! 
Behold, a world-wind blows, 
That aids the ivory lotos 
To wed the red red rose!