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The Garden of Kama:

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The Garden of Kama: by Adela Florence Cory Nicolson

   When I am dying, lean over me tenderly, softly,
     Stoop, as the yellow roses droop in the wind from the South.
   So I may, when I wake, if there be an Awakening,
     Keep, what lulled me to sleep, the touch of your lips on my mouth.

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