I am a beggar maid

At Thy temple's golden gate,

Singing in a faint voice

Of my love insatiate.

In the mellow hour of eve,

Inlaid with ruby and sapphire,

Beyond the burning West

I sight Thy shrine's high saffron spire.

In the silent hour of dawn,

When the smile of East is yet in bud,

The gentle breeze conveys

My song to Thee, though sung not loud.

Come, Lord! out of the smile

Of dawn's silvery bloom,

Riding on the first sun-beam

To lift me from my gloom.

Enter the dew-drop of my soul

And dance to my plaintive singing,

Then let me reap my love's harvest.

A kiss, an embrace and life's forgetting.