A touch of your hair, and my heart was furled

A touch of your hair, and my heart was furled;
A drift of fragrance, and noon stood still;
All of a sudden the fountain there
Had something to whisper the sun on the hill.

Rose of the garden of God's desire,
Only the passionate years can prove
With sorrow and rapture and toil and tears
The right of the soul to the kingdom of love.