Istar-i-Sahara
Dim in the east the ruined city lies,
Purple, against the paler purple skies,
And slender palms and minarets arise,
Into the night.
The sands are soft; by desert winds caressed
Into a thousand ripples. Let us rest
And watch the flaming scarlet of the west
Fade into night.
The pale pink Persian rose is like thy mouth,
Thy breath is sweet as breezes from the south
To weary lands repining in the drouth
Long days and nights.
I too have waited, parched and worn with pain,
Come and refresh me, as the gracious rain
Falls on tired fields and makes them green again
Through summer nights.
Ah, how I love thee. Thou art very fair,
Witness the silken softness of thy hair,
And thy calm eyes, clear as the morning air
On mountain heights.
Gloom falls apace, and silence spreads afar,
Give me thy hands, how slim and cool they are.
Lives there such love on any other star
That shines to-night?
Ah, wait awhile, as yet I only care
To lie to leeward and drink in the air
That passes over thee and through thy hair
Bringing delight.
Withdraw thy lips from mine, Insatiate!
Ah, give me time Beloved—thou willst not wait?
Then,—as thou willst, how shall I strive with fate
This night of nights?
Star of the Desert, make me thine indeed,
Though thou shouldst slay me now, I should not heed.
Of future days and nights I have no need
After this night.
My lips live only when they cling to thine
Part them a little as they close on mine,
So I may crush the grape and drink the wine
Of my delight.
If thou hast hurt me? Ah, how should I know?
If this be pain, then always pain me so!
Nay, do not stir, I cannot let thee go
This night of nights!
Justly I worship thee! Thou art divine
Creating thus thy life anew in mine.
Istar-Sahar! give me a child of thine
This night of nights!