From the Desert I come to thee
on a stallion shod with fire;
and the winds are left behind
in the speed of my desire.
Under your window I stand,
and the midnight hears my cry.
I love thee, I love but thee,
with a love that shall not die
Till the sun grows cold,
and the stars are old,
and the leaves of the judgment book unfold!
Look from my window and see
my passion and my pain;
I lie on the sands below
and I faint in thy distain
let the night wind touch thy brow
with the heat of my burning sigh,
and melt thee to hear the vow
of love that shall not die
Till the sun grows cold,
and the stars are old,
and the leaves of the judgment book unfold!
My steps are nightly driven,
by the fever in my breast,
to hear form thy lips
the words that shall give me rest.
Open the door of thy heart,
and open thy chamber door,
and my kisses shall teach thy lips
the love that shall fade no more
till the sun grows cold,
and the stars are old,
and the leaves of the judgment book unfold!
Bayard Taylor |
