In the Garden-Close at Mezra

In the garden-close at Mezra,
When the cactus was in flower,
We sat apart together
Through the languid noonday hour.

I was her Arab lover,
(Of course it was all in play!)
And I called her “Star-of-Twilight,”
And I called her “Dream-of-Day.”

She—has she quite forgotten?
Soothly, I do not know
If ever she tenderly opens
The volume of Long Ago.

But I—I can still remember
Her lips like the cactus flower
In the garden-close at Mezra
At the languid noonday hour!

Clinton Scollard