From The Birmingham Age-Herald, February 6, 1913.
 By Bayard Taylor.
 

 From the desert I come to thee,
 On a stallion shod with fire;
 And the winds are left behind
 In the speed of my desire.
 Under thy window I stand,
 And the midnight hears my cry;
 I love thee, I love thee,
 With a love that shall not die
 Till the sun grows cold,
 And the stars are old,
 And the leaves of the judgement
 Book unfold!
 
 Look from thy window, and see
 My passion and my pain;
 I lie on the sands below,
 And I faint in thy disdain.
 Let the night winds touch thy brow
 With the heat of my burning sigh
 And melt thee to hear the vow
 Of a love that shall not die
 Till the sun grows cold,
 And the stars are old,
 And the leaves of the judgement
 Book unfold!
 
 My steps are nightly driven
 By the fever in my breast,
 To hear from the lattice breathed
 The word that shall give me rest.
 Open the door of thy heart,
 And open thy chamber door,
 And my kisses shall teach thy lips
 The love that shall fade no more
 Till the sun grows cold,
 And the stars are old,
 And the leaves of the judgement
 Book unfold!