| |
| NEXT to thee, O fair gazelle, | |
| O Beddowee girl, beloved so well; | |
| |
| Next to the fearless Nedjidee, | |
| Whose fleetness shall bear me again to thee; | |
| |
| Next to ye both I love the Palm, | 5 |
| With his leaves of beauty, his fruit of balm; | |
| |
| Next to ye both I love the Tree | |
| Whose fluttering shadow wraps us three | |
| With love, and silence, and mystery! | |
| |
| Our tribe is many, our poets vie | 10 |
| With any under the Arab sky; | |
| Yet none can sing of the Palm but I. | |
| |
| The marble minarets that begem | |
| Cairo’s citadel-diadem | |
| Are not so light as his slender stem. | 15 |
| |
| He lifts his leaves in the sunbeam’s glance | |
| As the Almehs lift their arms in dance,— | |
| |
| A slumberous motion, a passionate sign, | |
| That works in the cells of the blood like wine. | |
| |
| Full of passion and sorrow is he, | 20 |
| Dreaming where the beloved may be. | |
| |
| And when the warm south-winds arise, | |
| He breathes his longing in fervid sighs,— | |
| |
| Quickening odors, kisses of balm, | |
| That drop in the lap of his chosen palm. | 25 |
| |
| The sun may flame and the sands may stir, | |
| But the breath of his passion reaches her. | |
| |
| O Tree of Love, by that love of thine, | |
| Teach me how I shall soften mine! | |
| |
| Give me the secret of the sun, | 30 |
| Whereby the wooed is ever won! | |
| |
| If I were a king, O stately Tree, | |
| A likeness, glorious as might be, | |
| In the court of my palace I ’d build for thee! | |
| |
| With a shaft of silver, burnished bright, | 35 |
| And leaves of beryl and malachite; | |
| |
| With spikes of golden bloom ablaze, | |
| And fruits of topaz and chrysoprase: | |
| |
| And there the poets, in thy praise, | |
| Should night and morning frame new lays,— | 40 |
| |
| New measures sung to tunes divine; | |
| But none, O Palm, should equal mine! | |
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