She lay forgetful in the boat, and watched the dying Sun
Sink slowly lakewards, while the stars replaced him, one by one.

She saw the marble Temple walls long white reflections make,
The echoes of their silvery bells were blown across the lake.

The evening air was very sweet; from off the island bowers
Came scents of Moghra trees in bloom, and Oleander flowers.

"The Moghra flowers that smell so sweet
When love's young fancies play;
The acrid Moghra flowers, still sweet
Though love be burnt away."

The boat went drifting, ucontrolled, the rower rowed no more,
But deftly turned the slender prow towards the further shore.

The dying sunset touched with gold the Jasmin in his hair;
His eyes were darkly luminous: she looked and found him fair.

And so persuasively he spoke, she could not say him nay,
And when his young hands took her own, she smiled and let them stay.

And all the youth awake in him, all love of Love in her,
All scents of white and subtle flowers that filled the twilight air

Combined together with the night in kind conspiracy
To do Love service, while the boat went drifting onwards, free.

"The Moghra flowers, the Moghra flowers,