Poems of Madison Cawein Vol. 4 — La Jeunesse et la Mort

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 overfain 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, Ah, 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, Ah, belle Heléne.

III

God had been kinder to me,--when He dipped His hands in fires and snows And made you like a flower to ken, A flower that in Earth's garden grows,-- Had He, for pleasure or for pain, Instead of Death in that domain, Made Love the gardener to that rose, Your loveliness, O belle Heléne!

God had been kinder to me then-- Me of all men, Ah, belle Heléne.