100 
AMBERGRIS 
Mistress of all its moods, 
Matchless, serene, in sacred amplitudes 
Of its own royal rapture, deaf and blind 
To aught but its own mastery of song 
And light, shown ever as silence and deep night 
Secret as death and final.  Let me long 
Never again for aught !  This great delight 
Involves me, weaves me in its pattern of bliss, 
Seals me with its own kiss, 
Draws me to thee with every dream that glows. 
Poet, each word !  Maiden, each burden of snows 
Extending beyond sunset, beyond dawn ! 
O Rose, inviolate, utterly withdrawn 
In the truth :—for this is truth ;  Love knows ! 
Ah !  Rose of the World !  Rose !  Rose !