VII.

As the king bird feeds on the heart of the bee,
So would I feed on the sweets of thee.

As the south wind kisses the leaf at will,
From the leaf of thy lips I would drink my fill.

As the sun pries into the heart of a rose,
I would pry in thy heart, and its thoughts disclose.

As a dewdrop mirrors the loving sky,
I would see myself in thy tear wet eye.

As the deep night shelters the day in its arms,
I would hide thee, dear, from the world's alarms.