145. Nepenthe

O BLEST unfabled Incense Tree,

That burns in glorious Araby,

With red scent chalicing the air,

Till earth-life grow Elysian there!

Half buried to her flaming breast

In this bright tree she makes her nest,

Hundred-sunned Phœnix! when she must

Crumble at length to hoary dust;

Her gorgeous death-bed, her rich pyre

Burnt up with aromatic fire;

Her urn, sight-high from spoiler men,

Her birthplace when self-born again.

The mountainless green wilds among,

Here ends she her unechoing song:

With amber tears and odorous sighs

Mourned by the desert where she dies.