I WALKED through a Forest, beneath the hot noon, 
On Etheline calling and calling! 
One said:  “She will hear you and come to you soon, 
When the coolness, my brother, is falling.” 
But I whispered:  “O Darling, I falter with pain!” 
And the thirsty leaves rustled, and hissed for the rain, 
Where a wayfarer halted and slept on the plain; 
        And dreamt of a garden of Roses! 
                Of a cool sweet place, 
                And a nestling face 
        In a dance and a dazzle of Roses.
In the drouth of a Desert, outwearied, I wept, 
O Etheline, darkened with dolours! 
But, folded in sunset, how long have you slept 
By the Roses all reeling with colours? 
A tree from its tresses a blossom did shake, 
It fell on her face, and I feared she would wake, 
So I brushed it away for her sweet sake; 
        In that garden of beautiful Roses! 
                In the dreamy perfumes 
                From ripe-red blooms 
        In a dance and a dazzle of Roses.
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