A String

Sing... I love you to sing,
and to tell the perfumes about me.

Sing... for love has known
none sweeter upon melody than I.

In song I am a poem —
a beauty never yet set to a tune.

My eyes are the flutter of a thicket,
green, from the land of longing.

Have you smelled the perfume of my veils?
A perfume that lives in the mind of Eden.

I — what ray of what star am I?
I — what color is there like my color?

In the mind, love carries me;
in fancy I sway as a fancy sways.

The letter would blaze up in splendor
if your letter but touched some of my beauty.

Sing... I love you to sing,
and to tell the perfumes about me.

Sing... for love has known
none sweeter upon melody than I.