Nepenthe

O BLEST unfabled Incense Tree, 
That burns in glorious Araby, 
With red scent chalicing the air, 
Till earth-life grow Elysian there! 
 
Half buried to her flaming breast 
In this bright tree she makes her nest, 
Hundred-sunned Phœnix! when she must 
Crumble at length to hoary dust; 
 
Her gorgeous death-bed, her rich pyre 
Burnt up with aromatic fire; 
Her urn, sight-high from spoiler men, 
Her birthplace when self-born again. 
 
The mountainless green wilds among, 
Here ends she her unechoing song: 
With amber tears and odorous sighs 
Mourned by the desert where she dies.