Paris III

III

      Choral Song

    Have ye gazed on its grandeur
     Or stood where it stands
    With opal and amber
     Adorning the lands,
    And orcharded domes
     Of the hue of all flowers?
    Sweet melody roams
     Through its blossoming bowers,
Sweet bells usher in from its belfries the train of the honey-sweet hour.

    A city resplendent,
     Fulfilled of good things,
    On its ramparts are pendent
     The bucklers of kings.
    Broad banners unfurled
     Are afloat in its air.
    The lords of the world
     Look for harborage there.
None finds save he comes as a bridegroom, having roses and vine in his hair.

    'Tis the city of Lovers,
     There many paths meet.
    Blessed he above others,
     With faltering feet,
    Who past its proud spires
     Intends not nor hears
    The noise of its lyres
     Grow faint in his ears!
Men reach it through portals of triumph, but leave through a postern of tears.

    It was thither, ambitious,
     We came for Youth's right,
    When our lips yearned for kisses
     As moths for the light,
    When our souls cried for Love
     As for life-giving rain
    Wan leaves of the grove,
     Withered grass of the plain,
And our flesh ached for Love-flesh beside it with bitter, intolerable pain.

    Under arbor and trellis,
     Full of flutes, full of flowers,
    What mad fortunes befell us,
     What glad orgies were ours!
    In the days of our youth,
     In our festal attire,
    When the sweet flesh was smooth,
     When the swift blood was fire,
And all Earth paid in orange and purple to pavilion the bed of Desire!