By The Fountain, There I Wait For Thee

By the fountain, there I wait for thee,
My mouth full of the cool water
That from snow-mountains falls in slaughter,
And goes like blood to seek the sea.
Clad in robes of mystic samite,
I await thee at the ending of night.

I await thee under a lemon tree,
Hung with trained branches of jasmine.
Take a breath and draw the sweet scents in,
The scent of flowers and fruit- and me.
Delicate, sweet, just brushing the air,
I await thee where all is fair.

In the bower, there I wait for thee,
Under trees where the nightingale rests,
Under branches curved as gently as thy breasts,
Tracing patterns in the air like filigree.
I am shaded and embowered;
I await thee where the trees have flowered.

I await thee beside the shining sea
Of bells I have tied in the willow grove,
Where each breeze shakes a reminder of love
From the bells, a song for thee and me.
Silver are the bells as thou always art;
I await thee with a bell ringing in my heart.

Beside the hedge, there I wait for thee,
Rejoicing in the fierce beauty of the may,
Cradling a cup of wine to the pledge pay
To thine eyes, which too much see
My heart, and make me tremble and long.
I await thee with my heart in a song.

I await thee in the shrine of love's mystery,
Where silver and gold are the temple's lobes,
My hands overflowing with flowers and fruit-globes,
My neck decked with the garland thou made for me.
Clad in life and our love, there I await thee.
Ah, my love, when wilt thou come and join me?