A black cat among rose
-misted under a first-quarter moon
The sweet smells of heliotrope
and night-scented stock.
The garden is very still,
It is dazed with moonlight
Contented with perfume,
Dreaming the opium
dreams of its folded poppies
Firefly lights open and vanish
High as the tip buds of the golden glow
Low as the sweet alyssum
flowers at my feet.
Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellis
Moon-spikes shafting through the snowball
Only the little faces of the ladies' delight are alert and staring,
Only the cat, padding between the roses,
Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern
As water is broken by the falling of a leaf.
Then you come,
And you are quiet like the garden,
And white like the alyssum flowers,
And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies
, do you see those orange lilies?
They knew my mother,
But who belonging to me will they know
When I am gone.