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!