And though mankind, with its narrow sight,
Might christen it child of shame,
The people's heart, which is always true,
Would give it a sweeter name.
"Love-child": name that is tender with love;
With joyous passion and youth.
Man's own sad laws have blinded his eyes,
But some of us see the truth!
If mine own hand had written my fate,
I know I had rather been
Fruit of a wild and exquisite love
Than the child of dull routine.
Should I not give to children of yours
Created in sheer delight,
The cool clear soul of this star-lit waste,
The peace of the Desert night?
And all our fervour and youth and force,
Would they not feel the same?
Surely the torch of life should be lit
At the whitest heat of the flame!
Lean back, lean back, till your loosened hair
Lies soft on the Desert sands,
That all yourself may abandoned be
To my reverent lips and hands.
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