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The Moonbeam wooed in velvet night
A Lotus bloom that dreamed of morn;
The Lotus moved her petals bright--
My Love came forth, my Soul was born.


More fair than any flower may be,
Her face is pure and fine as dusk;
Her hair is night above the sea,
Her fragrant skin is sweet as musk.


Her robes are silk; in every fold
There shines a pearl, there gleams a gem;
Her arms are clasped with hoops of gold;
Her eyes--what stars are like to them?


I fear the breeze at close of day,
I tremble when the dawn-wind blows;
Oh, Zephyr, woo her not away--
So light she comes, so light she goes!