This is the song <br />The spice-tree sings: <br />"Hunger and fire, <br />Hunger and fire, <br />Sky-born Beauty— <br />Spice of desire," <br />Under the spice-tree <br />Watch and wait, <br />Burning maidens <br />And lads that mate. <br /> <br />The spice-tree spreads <br />And its boughs come down <br />Shadowing village and farm and town. <br />And none can see <br />But the pure of heart <br />The great green leaves <br />And the boughs descending, <br />And hear the song that is never ending. <br /> <br />The deep roots whisper, <br />The branches say:— <br />"Love to-morrow, <br />And love to-day, <br />And till Heaven's day, <br />And till Heaven's day." <br /> <br />The moon is a bird's nest in its branches, <br />The moon is hung in its topmost spaces. <br />And there, to-night, two doves play house <br />While lovers watch with uplifted faces. <br />Two doves go home <br />To their nest, the moon. <br />It is woven of twigs of broken light, <br />With threads of scarlet and threads of gray <br />And a lining of down for silk delight. <br />To their Eden, the moon, fly home our doves, <br />Up through the boughs of the great spice-tree;— <br />And one is the kiss I took from you, <br />And one is the kiss you gave to me.<br /><br />Vachel Lindsay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-spice-tree/
