The Rose Garden of Persia

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T.N. Foulis, 1924 - English poetry - 188 pages

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Page 133 - Sweet maid, if thou wouldst charm my sight, And bid these arms thy neck infold; That rosy cheek, that lily hand, Would give thy poet more delight Than all Bocara's vaunted gold, Than all the gems of Samarcand.
Page 134 - ... fate : Ah ! change the theme, And talk of odours, talk of wine, Talk of the flowers that round us bloom: Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ; To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom. Beauty has such resistless power, That even the chaste Egyptian dame...
Page 103 - Which crowd each nook of that majestic place. The piles give way, the rocky peaks divide, The stream comes gushing on — a foaming tide/ A mighty work, for ages to remain, The token of his passion and his pain. As flows the milky flood from Allah's throne, Rushes the torrent from the yielding stone; And sculptured there, amazed, stern...
Page 104 - And feathered throngs their loves seem murmuring. The hands of Peris might have wrought those stems Where dew-drops hang their fragile diadems, And strings of pearl and sharp-cut diamonds shine, New from the wave, or recent from the mine. "Alas, Shireen ! " at every stroke he cries, — At every stroke fresh miracles arise.
Page 134 - Require the borrowed gloss of art ? Speak not of fate : ah ! change the theme, And talk of odours, talk of wine, Talk of the flowers that round us bloom : 'Tis all a cloud, 'tis all a dream ; To love and joy thy thoughts confine, Nor hope to pierce the sacred gloom.
Page 133 - Oh, when these fair perfidious maids Whose eyes our secret haunts infest Their dear destructive charms display, Each glance my tender breast invades And robs my wounded soul of rest, As Tartars seize their destined prey.
Page 63 - The lovely moon for thirty days Spreads radiant glory from afar: Her charms for ever night displays Crowned, like a queen, with many a star: Her seal-bearer is Heav'n, a band Of planets wait on her command. Day can but paint the skies with blue, Night's starry hosts amaze the view. Man measures time but by the moon; Night shrouds what day reveals too soon. Day is with toil and care oppressed, Night comes, and with her, gentle rest. Day, busy still, no praise can bring, THE PERSIAN ROSE GARDEN All...
Page 135 - Which naught but drops of honey sip? Go boldly forth, my simple lay, Whose accents flow with artless ease, Like orient pearls at random strung; Thy notes are sweet, the damsels say, But oh, far sweeter, if they please The nymph for whom these notes are sung.
Page 88 - THE VANITY OF REGRET Nothing in this world of ours Flows as we would have it flow; What avail, then, careful hours, Thought and trouble, tears and woe? Through the shrouded veil of earth, Life's rich colours gleaming bright, Though in truth of little worth, N Yet allure with meteor light.
Page 133 - Boy, let yon liquid ruby flow, And bid thy pensive heart be glad, Whate'er the frowning zealots say : Tell them, their Eden cannot show A stream so clear as Rocnabad, A bower so sweet as Mosellay.

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