LA JEUNESSE ET LA MORT.
Reading edition
I.
Unto her fragrant face and hair,— As some wild bee unto a rose, That blooms in splendid beauty there Within the South,—my longing goes: My longing, that is over fain To call her mine, but all in vain; Since jealous Death, as each one knows, Is guardian of La belle Heléne; Of her whose face is very fair— To my despair, Sweet belle Heléne.
II.
The sweetness of her face suggests The sensuous scented Jacqueminots; Magnolia blooms her throat and breasts; Her hands long lilies in repose: Fair flowers all without a stain, That grow for Death to pluck again, Within that garden's radiant close, The body of La belle Heléne; The garden glad that she suggests,— That Death invests. Sweet belle Heléne.
III.
God had been kinder to me,—when He dipped His hands in fires and snows And made you like a flow'r to ken, A flow'r that in Earth's garden grows,— Had He, for pleasure or for pain, Instead of Death in that demesne, Made Love the gardener to that rose, Your loveliness, O belle Heléne; God had been kinder to me then— And to all men, Sweet belle Heléne.