For just one glimpse of you,
The rosebud of your street
Has bloomed anew !
No songbird there to greet
Your rose, which blooms alone,
But in that land
Of poems, where have grown
My roses, and I stand
Within the shrine
Of secret meanings, hail !
How every verse of mine
The nightingale
Will sing, and none destroy
The ecstasy we share,
His house of joy