I WYRTLE AND J^jRRH fjc.r AMEEN RmANI LIBRARY OF CONGRESS DDD0D72fia71 Class _/^(?^3'^^0 Book '.JL4A Gopyri^htl^^ l2Aii COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. Myrtle and Myrrh by Ameen Rify^ni Translator of " The Quatrains of Ahn'l-Ala " Boston: Richard G. Badger The G or ham Press IQO^ Copyright 1905 by x\meen Rihani All rights reserved -fS ,r3 ivIAR Ai l9Ub ,Xt^ r r <^0 Printed at The Gorham Press, Boston, U. S. A. ■V. ^ i To my sisters ^. I SAADA AND ADELE ■a SALAAM From Syria to America Pardon, dear reader. The stranger at thy gate, haihng from the Orient, holds out to thee a gaunt and tatooed hand. This hand has often made mud-pies from earth that might have once mapped out the stars ; or, in a drunken vision, heard the grum- bhngs of a god and made of them a captivating creed : the brain of an ancient Assyrian astron- omer ; the spine of a Semitic sage ; the cheeks of a Jezebel or a St. Takla ; the heart of a slave that added beauty and horror to the chariot of a Babylonian king or a Roman conqueror : — any or all of these might have besmeared this hand. Wilt thou take it ? The hand of a personified illusion, of an exiled dream, of an Oriental who makes himself thy guest. He comes not to preach Buddhism to thee ; nor Mohammedanism ; nor Babyism ; nor any other ism made picturesque and alluring by red caftans, white turbans, blue sashes and amber- gris-scented lies. The only message he brings from his vine- crowned and pine-girdled Mother to bewitch- ing and enriching America is that of love and longing and lacrimal. He came from the Mountains of Lebanon, from under the shadow of the Acropolis of Baalbak, to learn from the Yankees the way to do things — the way to rise and flourish and expand ; or, as they put it, the way to get there and be it — from a mundane point of view, of course. It has been observed, however, that the spots of a leopard are irre- movable ; and so is the lethargy of an Oriental. The writer has found the strenuous Hfe to be as depressing and dwarfing as prison Ufe itself ; and so he has fallen back to the habit of dream- ing, and singing, and taking things easy, even in restless and dreamless America. This sounds paradoxical ; it is like going from the country of Trusts and Equality to establish a trolley-car system in the Lebanons. Even this might be possible fifty years hence, despite the opposition of those ancient hills. The writer has forsaken their cedars and pines, their vineyards and fig groves to walk in the shadows of sky-scrapers and watch the sun rise languidly from behind a mound of bricks or a smoking chimney, and sink a-blushing behind the grimy v/alls of gas- eous Communipaw. "So fair a sun Setting over so foul a town !" one would exclaim ; but nature delights in par- adoxes, and freaks, and rococo. These songs, dear reader, might not even deserve to be classi- fied with like phenomena ; but, as the sincere expression of a soul just emerging from the abyss, they deserve to stand. If, however, thou thinkest them no worse in spirit and merit than the amyelencephalic discourses of a pundit, or the emetic dissertations of a Zamackshary, then remember as thou settest the book aside that the author does not appeal to your charity, nor to your justice. Thou art the host, gentle reader; and he relies on the hospitality and cordiality due a guest. CONTENTS Salaam 5 Ever To Be 9 Upon the Peak of Sanneen 10 The Philistine 12 My Bornoose 13 A Spring Dirge 14 Fardi wa Nafli 15 Adele 17 Nectar and Blood 18 Resurrection 20 Disarmed Desire 21 A Better Woe 22 The First and Last 23 In the Meadow 24 O, Sweet Sometime 25 A Bed of Flame ... 26 The Sister of Death 26 Retribution 27 Let Thine Eyes Whisper 27 Lilatu Laili 28 Midnight Mood 29 Thy Smile 31 Unadorned 32 Dissolution 32 A Serenade 33 The Brass Bed 34 Three Golden Threads 35 Independent Blossoms 36 The God of my Goddess 36 A Peasant's Song 37 7 Her First Sorrow * 39 A Noctnrn 40 Saada 41 Stolen Salvias 42 Jealousy 43 Beneath the Salvias 43 Gone with the Swallows 44 To the Sonnet 45 The Tomb and the Rose 46 Rest 46 The Fruits of Death 48 The "Flatiron" and the Ruins of Palmyra . 48 It was All for Him 49 Repentance 50 O, Give me Strength to Take 51 Written After Reading King Lear . . 52 Near the Cascades 53 Onward Keep 55 Allah wa Ana 56 In Memory of E. M. El-K 57 To Abu'1-Ala 59 Myrtle and Myrrh EVER TO BE My far cry, though no one should echo, — Though no one to hsten should stand, I shall dare with my burden the darkness And I shall not retreat from this land ; Though I'm hurled 'neath the feet of the mil- lions, Who struggle their places to keep, The sea-nymphs still bathe with my Fancy And the Dryads still sweeten my sleep. Though I'm crushed, cast away and forgotten, — Though I'm buried in the dust of their cars, I can see through their madness above me, — I can feel the quick pulse of the stars ; Though my head be the foot-stool of tyrants, Though my back be a step to their throne, I still dwell with the kings of Orion And I walk with the sun-queen alone. Though the hre of my youth should consume me, — Though my body a brimstone should be, I can draw on the clouds for their water And behold ! I've of water a sea ; And though roofless, and friendless, and hope- less, And loveless, and godless I stand. The waves of my Life shall continue To murmur and laugh on the Strand. UPON THE PEx-\K OF SANNEEN My soul and I, upon the peak Of Sanneen grim and grey, Sat musing in the twihght of A sombre summer day. "Great Saturn and the Moon are gone Together o'er the sea ; But will great Saturn e'er return Should he elope with thee? Ah well, who knows ? when thou art gone I, too, shall sink within the brine, — I, too, shall sail above this peak And signal yonder groves of pine. Behold the melancholy sky Of this forgotten land ; On this side are the valleys bleak. On this, the desert sand." "I hear the moaning of the wind," My sad companion said ; "The snow is gathering in me And the night is overhead. Long have we dwelt together, friend, In our sweet ennui ; But were I now to take my leave, Alas, what would I be?" "O, think not of departing. Ah, too young I am to die ; I'll find the magic wings ; and there Still hangs a friendly sky. 10 Let us above these pines, and clouds, And scents awhile yet dwell ; — Where wouldst thou go, if thou wert now To sigh a last farewell?" Thou seest the busy elements Dissolving one by one The souls that are acquitted. For the all-absorbing sun. Let's sing the song of darkness then ; Thy prison is the Whole ; — What canst thou do, where wilt thou go. What wilt thou be, my Soul ? Thou wouldst not be the air that weighs Upon the rising dust ; Thou wouldst not be the fog that chokes The air in savage lust. Thou wouldst not be the clouds that block The smoke's way to a star ; Nor linger in the guilty tears Of clouds before the bar. Thou wouldst not be the rain that taunts The all-devouring sea. Itself destroying many a nest In bush and rock and tree. Thou wouldst not be the thunder's tongue Spell-binding all the spheres ; Nor wouldst thou be the lightning blade That stabs and disappears. Thou wouldst not be the dew that falls Alike on thorn and flower ; II Nor even the morning zephyr That blows o'er den and bower. Thou wouldst not be the virgin snow Set free from yonder clouds, Only to melt beneath the feet Of surging human crowds." "No! none of these," my Soul replied; "I'll shiver ever thrall ; O let me rise, for I would be The sky above them all.'' THE PHILISTINE The cricket to the corn-crake came one day, Shivering, yet buzzing in his wanton way, And said: "I'm slain By hunger, brother, turn thou not from me ; Tis winter, and I only beg of thee A little grain." The corn-crake grinned and said in tone sublime : "Where wert thou hidden in the harvest time, Thou dinning drone? Why didst thou not come with us to the fields To gather something for thy winter meals Of what had grown? "O, I was entertaining with my rhymes The vineyards, and the fig trees, and the thymes The summer long." "No then," replied the corn-crake, "not a seed Have I for such as thou ; go home and feed Upon thy Song." 12 AIY BORNOOSE Into this world they tell me I was sent Wrapt in a bornoose, which was rudely rent And flung away, by her who first didst touch My steaming flesh ; I never loved her much, The surly, stolid, sordid, spectral hag: For never would my star of fortune lag — No dwarf of earth to oppose my will would dare — If my sebaceous bornoose she did spare, And if around my neck, the ajous says. It hung, locked in a charm, for twenty days. But ever since the amulet was torn. The curse of gods and jinn and men I've worn; And to my flesh it stuck — a Nessus shirt — Despite the oozing blood, and not spurt Of power, alas ! is left me to control The stinging tongue of an avenging soul. 13 A I5PRING DIRGE Sad, sad, sad — In vain thou comest, Spring ; Sad, sad, sad — In vain thy birds all sing: Perfumeless is thy rose ; Thy breeze, which softly blows, Disturbs my sea of woes, Ay, Death is on the wing. Gone, gone, gone — Go seek her, mocking Spring ; Gone, gone, gone — Aside thy garlands fling ; Destroy thy laughing bower ; Call back an April shower To weep with me this hour : He came, not reckoning. Love, love, love — What sendest thou with Spring? Love, love, love — What tidings these birds bring! They tell me they can hear Thee, in a higher sphere ; But can that dry a tear, Or give mv wish a wing? 14 FARDI WA NAFLI This was written in the hospital where Mr. Riliani's sister suffered for more than two years. She was taken sick not long before the day appointed for her wedding. I "Here she is : O take her not away so soon ! Spare her youth — the fatal cup from her with- hold ! Let her groan within my arms in life's fore- noon ; Let me still my soul within her eyes unfold." God of Love ! my faith in thee is not yet gray : Grant that she may walk again, Free from suffering and pain — Give her life to see the altar's light one day. II In the night, before the day that never came. On the way with poppies and gardenias strewn. With her music and her torch's holy flame, She was struck and never since saw sun or moon. God of Light ! refuse her not another ray : Her bridal garment joins with me In beseeching, begging thee — Give her life to see the altar's light one day. Ill All the sorrow earth contains I can support, All the agony and pain I can endure ; Years of misery will seem surprising short, If to me thou leav'st her, though without a cure. 15 All m}' dreams before thy throne, O God, I slay ; These my offerings let be, These my sacrifice to thee — Give her life to see the altar's light one day. IV '"Hurry here! O get the doctors — call the nurse — Call the priest — be quick — some more digit- aline — He is here, alas ! before you all — a hearse." Death has passed us by ; take up the violin ! To Thy heart my music fain would find its way ; Every sound Thy grace would earn ; Let it not as sad return — Give her life to sec the altar's light one day. V Every wound and every sigh and groan and tear, Every drop of Saada's melting flesh and hope Now ascend, wrapt in this music, pale and blear — Around Thy throne, in gyves of pain, they blindly grope. What remains, what's gone of her before Thee lay : Faith and Doubt are at Thy door — Mother, brother, pray, implore — Give her life to see the altar's light one dav. i6 ADELE Adele ! a name that kindled in the breast Of France's first-born of the fairest Muse A flame in which a thousand colors fuse And shame the April rainbows of the West ; But I can only stand upon the crest Of Song's most sacred Mount and bring excuse That I have begged, and since the gods refuse, I steal, and with the theft I thee invest, A Sun or Moon of Song for all my oceans Of purest love, an ornament at best, — A bunch of stars — a wreath for my emotions ; But if the gods with sisters dear are blest. To me they all must come in joy or sorrow. From me they all must steal, or beg, or borrow. 17 NECTAR AND BLOOD I If I should worship at thine ancient shrine, Where thy good sons, incensed by love of war, Now clamor, as their fathers did of yore — If I should sacrifice what is not mine. Nor any living god's, nor even thine — If for the sake of honor I must pour This cup of life upon thy barren shore. How will it fare then with my love divine? No ! let thy sons go forth to burn and slay : Let them for love of thee and glory smear And tear the love of all that's pure and dear ; Let them this loveless love in rage display ; I can not join them ; no, I can not cheer As they beneath my window pass to-day. II What care I for the tears the maudlin crowd Sheds o'er my bier — for praise of Cburch and State— For glory that remains within the gate Of worldly things — for men's esteem avowed — For freedom that is not with love endowed — For fame that lingers oft and comes too late. When these the sorrow of my love create And haunt her with the shadow of my shroufl? How cowardly, self-centered have I grown — How dead to true and noble feelings all? Why not, when they the human soul enthrall — Why not, when they the beast in man enthrone? I cling to love, and with love I will fall. Unwept, unsung, unhonored and unknown. i8 Ill What will these kings and war-lords of the land And all their ministers of murder fell Do with their arms and fleets — all tools of hell — If every son of man resolve to stand A-wieldingf, king-like, in his home the wand, Beside the ones he loves and honors well ? Can force this gentle host of peace compel, When loving hearts their amber wings expand? O love, though hounded, outlawed we may be — Though Slander, dagger-drawn, be on our trail — Though Hatred with her hydra tongues should rail At us, and though left sinking in the sea Of ostracism, ay, never will I quail, But will now and forever cling to thee. 19 RESURRECTION The ghost of Winter stalks amidst the boughs Of Spring and drags along his icy shroud ; The corn flowers and the wheat, with broken vows, Are now beneath tlie storm untimely bowed. O Winter, thou wert buried on the hills ; Thine epitaph was written with melted snow ; Thy skeleton is in the barren rills, Where once thy silvery life-blood used to flow. Why visitest the glimpses of the sun So soon, what message bring'st thou from the dead ? Why rudely interrupt the children's fun And havoc among the Guests of Summer spread ? Behold, the branches shiver, the blossoms fall ; The lilac in the leaves a shelter seeks ; Thy savage winds the Queen of May appal, — They pale with summer's dust her rosy cheeks. Withhold the solemn music of thy gale Until the golden notes of Spring are spun ; The opera in the trees is but begun, O, drown it not with thy benighted wail. For thee May's winged madonnas will not sing, Nor in thy presence will they now appear : Begone, that their sweet voices we may hear — Begone, the world to-da_\' belongs to Spring. 20 DISARMED DESIRE O, how the Hght drifts from the hemlock grove, How in the night disarmed Desires do rove ! A sister to the dumb hydrangea thou, A mystery born of the Then and Now. The color on thy clouded face — ah me ! Is't from the embers that still burn in thee? Has not the forge of suffering robbed thee of The flame with which weak mortals feed their love? Wilt thou, no longer fancying the light. Conjure a virgin flame from darkest night? And feed it with the salvias of a soul. That would, but yet— alas ! she seeks the Whole. The hand that broke the screen, the heart that lied,— Where are they? Come, the path of truth is wide. The silvery cataracts of roaring rills Meander in the shadows of the hills ; And their bass music, — does it not arise From that descent that leads up to the skies? O how disarmed Desire uprises, how — Does not the darkness crown the Lightning's brow ? 21 Yet how I wish, yet how I shrink, when I Behold thee — ah, she's ever in mine eye ! If thy pink, blue and golden hues disclose The secret, might not that undo the rose? Thou sister to the dumb hydrangea, when Will all thy sombre musings rise again? O, how the light drifts from the hemlock grove, How in the night disarmed Desires do rove 1 A BETTER WOE Of all my desert days Thou art the only one Upon whose sandy face A strip of pleasure's foliage trembling grows Of all the winding ways. Which with my rapture shone But one can I retrace, And there the barren breast of beauty glows. Of all the dread desires. That beat within me still. One shakes the sacred fear And hurls me into the arms of her below ; But oh, how life suspires — How soon after the thrill Of joy I shudder, I hear My murmuring soul pine for a better woe. 22 THE FIRST AND LAST kiss me now ; the end is near The bright beginning ; kiss me, dear. 1 would not that thou shouldst one day In bitter thought remembering say : "W'hen in the high tide of our bhss Upon these Hps I slew the kiss That should have lived." The kiss I fear — The poison, ah, the lie, my dear. Fear not ; O kiss me whilst I can't Refuse ; am I to-morrow thine ? Wilt thou be near me when I pant ? I shall not go ; thou wilt not pine. Sweet thoughts ! — Alas, the first, the last ! Nay, nay ! I cling to thee : the past Is dying in the lap of night In which our star is shining bright. The fingers in the shadow, there! What are they weaving? Look, a shroud! Come, purse thy lips ; do not despair ; Take hold my hand and speak aloud. No, no ! For whom that shroud, for whom ? Not for our love — not for our jov? * * -.;: :|c '-A- * Then seal thou with thy lips my doom, Av, with a kiss this life destroy! 23 IX THE MEADOW The shadow of thy curls I see Upon thy lovely face ; And just a little wish is mine — The shadow to embrace. On thy black and silken tresses, Ah, one longs to feast the sight ; But the shadows of their beauty, Hanging on thy cheeks of light, From my lips, exact a tribute, Which I pay here in this meadow : Blush not, my most winsome maiden ; I have only kissed the shadow. 24 i i O, SWEET SOA'IETIME O, sweet Sometime, the gardens bloom the while I wait ; Each moment melts a tear of joy before thy gate ; It is thy pleasure that I burn, — it is my fate, O, sweet Sometime ! O, when the moment in this interval is born. When through this sleeping splendor breaks the lingering morn, And when thy sensual silence laughs my noise to scorn — O, sweet Sometime ! Spare me the vacant moment yet, — O just awhile ; Expectancy, thy sweetest daughter, will beguile Aiy yearning hours ; the shades reflected by her smile Are now my haunts, O sweet Sometime. The waiting while, O sweet Sometime, I can enjoy ; Thy heralding shadows every beating pang de- stroy, And with their breath of musk and myrrh my soul they cloy, O, sweet Sometime ! I tremble, I forget, I throb when once I hear The dying interval announcing thou are near; A touch, a groan, a kiss and thou wilt disappear, With bitten lip, O. sweet Sometime ! And then the memory — O, how it will oppress ! Far sweeter is Expectancy — ah, let me press The vigor from her limbs to mine; Ell yet caress The waiting while, O, sweet Sometime! 25 A^BED OF FLAME I saw one day on the horizon grey, As with my load I wandered near the sea, A whiff of smoke embrace the sleeping sun ; And just as their enchantment had begun, A lonely cloud that roved above the lea Passed by their couch and hid them from the day. I saw this and my soul, long silent, cried : "Would that I were the whiff of smoke Now sleeping with the sun ! In beds of flame, how often was I tried, — How often have I 'neath the stroke Of God or Satan shone!" THE SISTER OF DEATH Ah, talk to me of something else, I pray ; I'm weary of the dreams that bring nor sleep. Nor rest, nor love, nor something from the deep, Where buried are the gods of yesterday ; Ah, talk to me of Death that takes away My little sorrows, as they hide and peep. My little joys, as they disport and leap, My little vanities, my budless May. The burden of my virtues and my sins. The burden of authority that grins At every effort, ah, the burden kills ; I know that Death a Sister hath, but where. Where can I find thee. Love, when shall I share The sweetness of the silence of the hills ? 26 . RETRIBUTION How I did hold in deep contempt The slaves and queens of love ! How I disguised iny feelings when I met a deer or a dove ! How I did smile and snifif and rail At lovers young and old ; How I denied, in days gone by, O love, thy charms untold ! But now, alas ! I find myself In chains at Beauty's shrine : The chains whose power I have denied Are sapping, sapping mine. LET THINE EYES WHISrER Grieve not, for I am near thee ; .Sigh not, for I can hear thee ; Wash from thy heart all memory of past wrong Doubt not that doubts besmear thee ; Speak not, for I do fear thee ; Let thine eyes whisper love's conciling song. 27 LILATU LAILI At night on the radiant Rialto, By the stars in their houses of glass, I strolled with my soul in my pocket And prayed that my night might not pass ; I have seen 'neath the high heels of Beauty My heart and my soul and my shame ; That form ! O, how often it lured me, And how often I lost in the game ! And how often I walked in the shadow Of a Laila a mile and a mile ! But the rapture and bliss of a vision Would end in a great gush of bile. To the hints that her garment would whisper I have listened but I would not dare ; I have seen every one of my fancies Retreat in the dark of her hair. I have wished that each building around us Was a cedar, a poplar, a pine; That the men and the women were statues, And the rain that was falling was wine ; That the lights were ethereal flowers ; That the cars were the nooks in the wood,- "O, enough !" she exclaimed as she kissed me, "This attic and couch are as good." 28 MIDNIGHT lAIOOD There's one upon whose youthful breast I fain would die : jNIy soul upon her lingering lips through mine I'd pour In torrents that would reach and thrill Love's every shore — In floods that drown the earth and rise to drown the sk}'. But how can I ? Alas, the leaves must shield the flower, And silent see her proffering to the butterfly Her cheeks, her honeyed lips, her soul, — O, how can I ? In all the worlds, to change my being, is there no power ? How oft I rise at night to probe the human laws, My beating temples all my waking hours re- cording ! And nor solution, nor repose my task afford- ing.— How oft my carnal silence cries for the bliss that was ! The bliss that generous nature gives, that man denies — A bliss that's chained in idle words and damned codes And creeds and customs creeping in their dark abodes — The bliss that's lost within an endless maze of lies. 29 Pray, tell nie, mtist the North Wind blow and sweep by rule ? Must he the virgin ponds and springs and rills avoid ? See how the ocean, panting, rising, overjoyed, Holds out her arms to him, — why not the limpid pool? And thou, O himian Ocean, — would that I could give In equal measure, when beneath me thou art parting ! O, generous, fiery soul, in love though I am wanting. My flesh, within thy passion's hearth, will glow and live. Thou art the twilight ; I'm the dawn ; yet we shall meet And flood the firmament with fire and rainbow- beauty. No unfed sun or moon shall rob us of our booty. And if the gods should frown, — is not rebellion sweet ? But ah, live Twilight ! why cannot the Dawn be true? Wh}?^ can't I quaff from thy sad lips, as thou, from mine? Why can't this heart, forgetting once, as well be thine? How can I my most holy passion tame, subdue? That youthful breast, imprisoned, I see through thine own ; 30 Those Eastern eyes cannot be bidden by thy flame ; That form, as I am in thine arms — O, do not blame — In mine I fancy, — let me die in shame alone ! THY SMILE Outside the gates of night, aboye the moon, Where breatheth none but gods, where light alone Forever rules from his star-studded throne. Where Melancholy never reaches noon. And where the Pleiades their harps attune, — There in the centre of the lightning zone, l^pon the zephyr wliich the storm hath sown, Thou first v/ert formed Vv'ith pleasure to com- mune. And now in Pleasure's world, upon the face Of bright and gay Bohemia's fairest child The zephyr dallies with the lightning flash ; The smile divine, as well the subtle grace Are deeply there impressed, by naught defiled— There joy's received as well as paid in cash. 31 U^\\DORNED Regardless of the cries of priests and sages I strove to give my bleeding soul her wages ; And each embrace or memory of one Is worth to me the treasures of the ages, Is worth to me the treasures of the ages. Each shadow of a kiss or fond embrace Down in the depth of solitude I trace ; And in the corners of my darkest den The fallen gods of pleasure find a place, The fallen gods of pleasure find a place. And though knee-deep I find myself in hell, And though the flames around my checks should swell, I shall not loose my grip on Allah's throne, I shall not fall alone, I know full well, I shall not fall alone, I know full well. DISSOLUTION I languish in thy penetrating clasp. Just as a bird entangled on a bough Shaken by the wind ; Yet here would I be happy in the grasp Of death ; but in thy breast I'm hidden now, And death is blind. I melt beneath thy storm of kisses, dear, Just as the gum upon the almond tree Of melting when alone and far from thee : Melts 'neath the rain ; Yet would I melt to-night than live in fear O, storm again ! 32 A SERENADE The moon hath said her sad good-bye. My sleeping queen ; And all the stars are wondering why Thou art unseen. Rehold ! abashed, they take to flight. As through the casement breaks thy light. Arise, my dawn, arise ! Arise, my queen serene ! II The field of heaven is all thine own, My peerless star. Just as my heart is thine alone, Be near or far. So let thy face adorn the night. And flood it with thy dazzling light. Arise, my queen, arise ! Arise, to my guitar ! Ill The vaults above all vacant seem, My sweetest flower ; And for thv scent, the cherubim Long at this hour. A moment from thy sweet dream part. Though in that dream be wove my heart. Arise, my queen, arise ! Let fall thy perfume shower. 33 THE BRASS BED I love thy color and thy symmetry ; I love the art that v/ronght thy ghttering- arms. Thy canopy, thy satin portieres too ; I love the silks and feathers on thy breast — The cushions and the pillows and the quilts : 1 love thine every part. Yet still more do I love to rest in thee — To dream of art's perfection in thy frame ; Of paths as smooth, as shining as thy limbs ; Of scenes as exquisite as thy coils ; Of nooks as warm as thine hospitable bosom, As cool and as refreshing as thy veinless naked arms, I dream of all beneath thy soothing mantle. But O, I love my dreams much more than thee, .'Vnd one sad soul much more than all mv dreams. If thou hadst but an eve to see. To look upon the guest that lay upon thy floor Beneath thy silken ceiling ! O, hadst thou but an ear to hear The plaintive chirpings of this swallow-soul. Couldst thou but feel her forehead iVioistened with the sweat of hope and pain. For forty moons she lay within thine arms, Rubbing her erstwhile rosy cheeks Against the ulcers of Ayoub of yore. Couldst thou but see, O Bed of Brass, Couldst thou but hear, couldst thou but feel, — Of Vvdiat use all thy showy stuff — Thv glittering brass, the. filigree of art. Thy floor of down and feather cushions all, Thy snow-white mantles, satin tapestries? 34 Beauty and Pain ! Death will not come with thee, O Pain ! Life will not come with thee, O Beauty ! The fires of hell are but a taper's flame compared to this. Thy guest, O Bed of Brass, Looks on thee with a yearning glance. And vet her soul, bearing the torch of Pain, Ls searching all the worlds for Death. THREE GOLDEN THREADS (After dc Lisle.) Like yonder swallow, I would soar away, — Above the sea, far from this buzzing mart ; But how can I? A cruel, little fay Plas fettered with three golden threads my heart. Tier honeyed tongue the one ; her eyes the other ; The third her lips ; and that completes her art. No fruits from other gardens can I gather. For she has tied with golden threads my heart. O, how I would asunder rend my chain. And from the tears and pangs of love depart ; Ah. no! 'tis better that I die in pain Than break the golden threads of my poor heart. 35 INDEPENDENT BLOSSOMS When the spring boughs were told Soon the rose will unfold Herself in the bower Of which she is queen, Their blossoms, beguiling The sad leaves, said smiling : "No slaves to a flower Have we ever been." Our lords are the birds. And they love not in words ; They sing when we smile And sob when we fall ; Her lord is the liar — The thief or the buyer — Who smells her the while She lives, and that's all. THE GOD OF MY GODDESS The old gods and their slaves Eve deserted ; The new gods Eve shunned at first sight ; And my god is the god of the goddess That presides at my feast of delight. But once, when the dark moment lingered, I questioned the god she adores ; To his throne I implored her to lead me. And, behold! Em the god she implores. 36 A PEASANT'S SONG O, thou, who loved me once, From thy Pagoda glance ; Shoot down a poisoned lance : All's well that comes from thee. Look back, look down once more ; Dear was to thee this shore ; I see thee nevermore Beneath the olive tree. Remains my station low. Whilst thou dost greater grow ; Ah, fate hath struck the blow That parted thee and me. How can I bear my fate, How can I loveless wait In this most sorry state, When thou art far and free? Far from the soul that swore On love's abysmal door To cling forevermore To none on earth but thee ; Free from the sacred plight Which, to dispel the night. Thou madest, when I quite Fell near thy bended knee. Dost thou not still remember Love's May and Love's December? Both burned their sacred ember In our sweet company. 37 Dost hear the echoes fall Within thy gilded hall ? Dost thon not ever recall The day thou wert like me? When all thy gardens bloom, Look out into the gloom ; There does the flame consume Thy budless lilac tree. There often thou didst play A-mindless of the day When soul to soul would say : "No more of thee and me." And when withers thy rose, Throw to the wind that blows This way a leaf ; who knows What therein I can see. And till my course is run I'll count them one by one — These leaves ; and may the sun Of jov ne'er set on thee. HER FIRST SORROW 'T is but a score of hours when he didst swear !\Iy sorrow and my joy to share. Despite the fates, fore'er ; But now he's gone to cash again his he; Others his shame with me will wear, Why should I die? Last night his hps my very feet didst burn ; His kisses dropt, my love to earn, Whichever v\/a3' he'd tu.rn ; But now he's gone another soul to rob. Another heart to hu'e and spurn, ' Why should I sob? He did not kiss me when he said good-bye ; I let him go, not asking why, Nor do I for him sigh ; He's gone another virgin breast to tear. He's gone on other lips to die, Whv should I care? 39 A NOCTURN Upon the face of darkness beams my soul — Nearby, behind the curtains of my sight ; And 'round it weary waves of wonder roll — Sad seas of color o'er dead seas of light : Here is no Space, no Time — nor day nor night — Here is the boundless, undiminished Whole — Here is my soul. Here is no love that hides beneath its shoal The sandix that can redden a sea of years ; Here is no lust that lies to Beauty's mole And draws from eyes of flint a flood of tears ; Here is no disenchantment and no fears — No blasted hopes, no jaunty joy. no dole — Here is my soul. Now lost in clay and water ; now the Whole Is lost within me : sea and earth and sky I dismiss from my presence, as I roll My lids and lo, the lord of night am I. Into the airless wilderness I fly ; Here is no vain desire, no galling goal — Here is my soul. In Eternity, shod with the hoary noul Of deathless Death — in dim and shimmering shades Of soilless vales that bosom and cajole The crystal flowers dropping from cloud-cas- cades ; Here in the grove of myriad colonnades Of jet and pearl and amber I now stroll — Here is my soul. 40 SAADA Long hast thou s'.iffered. sister of my licart, Still thou art Fair to see ; Thy pains thou cntertainest with thy song, But how long Will this be? The seasons all have come and gone, my dear, But thy cheer Still abides. I ask which of thy moan or song is best And thou sayst : "God decides." I feel the ebbing of the undertone Of thy moan In thy song ; How long will tears and irony compete For thee. Sweet, O, how long? When wilt thou. Baby dear, with nimble feet, Run to greet Me at the door? When wilt thou, Saada, walk again with me Near the sea, As before? O sister, how I wish to see thee run, In the sun, On the sands ! The singing breakers and the smiling beach To thee reach Out their hands. 41 The light of clfy is longing for thy face And the grace Of thy form ; O how I wish to see thee, Noor-ul-Ain Caught again In the storm ! STOLEN SALVIAS O, bleeding blossoms, tell, were my heart there — There in your bed, Would that sweet thief that stole you unaware Have stolen it instead? Come with me, scarlet salvias, to your home ; We are not late ; Love in the moonlight there again vvill roam — There let us wait. I still remember when one night she crowned Me with the stars Plucked from your scarlet sky — she would astound The kings of Mars. She then would slay me — wash the face of night With my bold blood — Ay, she would show that yours is not as bright And not as good. O, scarlet salvias, why should I refuse When I'm with you ? Whv should I chill my lady, if she choose To steal me too? 42 JEALOUSY The violets their soft, dark lashes part, While robins serenade them far and near ; But the anemone, with ebon heart And blood-shot eyes, pretends she does not hear. The violets invite the nightingale Whose carols fall in dew upon their bed ; But the hydrangea, as safifron pale. Holds hig'h above the wall her noddino; head. BENEATH THE SALVIAS Beneath the salvias, where some angel slew The favors that were granted by his god, My heart is hidden ; let thy feet be shod With feathers plucked from my wings of crim- son hue. When here again thou might'st be wandering- through ; Look not above; Lm breathing in the sod. A-mindless of the years, 'neath which Fm trod — Of Spring birds' song, or shrieks of Winter's crew. Here let me sleep, my lady: wake me not; Here let me gather, hidden from the moon And the sun, the strength to rise again and see ; No sweeter, dearer, more enchanting spot Is there for my sick heart ; O, not so soon — Awake me not — O, let me dream of thee. 43 GONE WITH THE SWALLOWS. Must I convey at last the news to thee? Must I now mourn the love that lived in me? Gone with the autumn, with the dying year. Gone with the kisses that are yet so near! Gone with the swallows somewhere o'er the sea ! But with the Spring will he again Return, will he with me remain? Must I till then, remembering naught, Forgetting all that love had brought, Grope in the shadows of the slain? Must I forget the day That took my love away, And all the happy hours That reared for him their towers And crowned him with the flowers Of all the queens of May? Must I alone My once my own, In my retreat The new year greet, And winter meet. And winds hear moan? Not yet Can I Forget ; But why One clings And sings To things That die? 44 TO THE SONNET Though cribbed and gyved, thou canst within thy walls Unfold a wondrous wealth of worlds unseen. And flood the soul's abyss with moon-light sheen. As well as darken passions' gilded halls ; Thy fourteen outlets are so many falls From which gush out the prisoned joy, or spleen — The silvery cascades, or the billows green. And either a sea of bliss or grief recalls. Thou goddess of the gems of Fancy's deep. Though few thy facets, they reflect the whole Of inner-self in multi-shaded hues ; Thou art the couch of dreams that never sleep ; Thou art the phoenix of the poet's soul. As well the crystal palace of his muse. 45 THE TOMB AND THE ROSE {After Victor Hugo.) The Tomb said to the Rose : Flower of Love, where goes Each tear which Dawn upon thy cheeks doth shed? The Rose said to the Tomb : What makest in thy gloom Impenetrable of the countless dead? Said the Rose : O Tomb, of all these tears, In my recesses ere the sun appears, 1 make a perfume which the gods will prize. Said the Tomb : O plaintive Flower, Of every mortal I devour An angel do I make for Paradise. REST Long have I a word enshrined And worshipped with a piety blind! Long have I been seeking Rest In the East and in the West! Here and there and everywhere Have I seen her shadow fair ; But the shadow seems to fade Like the flowers of yonder glade. In my lone retreat I sought Her, but dreams against me fought. In my nights for her I pray, But with sleep she stays away. Foolish is thine eflfort, vain — Fruitless, hopeless is thy pain! With the march of Motion keep, 46 In thy walk and in thy sleep Beyond thy finite power it lies To chain the coursers of the skies. Even nomads and cells minute Worlds of unrest constitt:te. Rest is no where to be found ; Each to all in suffering bound. And no power can deliver thee, Mortal, from activity. In thy life as in thy death, In thy heart as in thy breath, On the earth as in the skies Restless Motion never dies. Always raging, always spinning, Endless and without beginning. Death, like me, is seeking Rest. And all the seas are in her quest ; But ah, poor souls, she is beyond Our grasp ; we must go on and on. No, nor even the grave is free From the laws that shackle me ; New life from his worms takes wing. And on his face fresh blossoms spring. 4?: THE FRUITS OF DEATH I Said golden leaves upon the ground To new born leaves upon the tree : "Soon homeward autumn winds will blow And carry us away to sea, Just as it shook the night before The branches all and set us free ; No longer do we envy bird or dew, Nor do we want again to be like you." n The sweet and tender leaves replied : "Still we rejoice that we are here ; We rise from the eternal source Of life to crown the dying year ; The wind that freed you we can see. The sea you love we always hear. You are the boot}- of the storm and we. We are the fruits of Death upon Life's tree." THE "FLATIRON" AND THE RUINS OF PALMYRA To the Ruins of Palmyra this the "Flatiron" ad- drest : "Did you ever in your glory Dream of looking up to see my crest?" To the "Flatiron" the Ruins thus replied across the sea : "We were like thee yesterday. To-morrow thou wilt like us be." 48 IT WAS ALL FOR HLM I strolled upon the Crooklyn Britlge one da\-, Beneath the storm ; None but a lad in rags upon the way 1 saw ; — there on a bench he lay Heedless of form. He seemingly was reading what the Shower Was publishing upon the Bridge and down the Bay ; Yet he was writing, writing at this liour, — Writing in a careless sort of wa}'. L4)on a pad he scribbled and as fast the rain Retouched, effaced, corrected and revised. Was he recording Nature's solemn strain. Or sketching choristers therein disguised? Whatever it be, I found myself quite by his side ; My nod and smile he pocketed and wrote again ; "Read me your drizzling stuff," I said, and h.c replied : "I've written a check in payment for this shower of rain." 49 REPENTANCE When tears wash tears and soul upon soul leaps, When clasped in arms of anguish and of pain. When love beneath the feet of passion creeps, Ah me, what do we gain? When we our rosy bower to demons lease, When Life's most tender strains by shrieks are slain, When strife invades our quietude and peace, Ah me, what do we gain? When we allow the herbs of hate to sprout, When weeds of jealousy the lily stain. When pearls of faith are crushed by stones of doubt. Ah me, what do we gain? When night creeps on us in the light of day. When we nepenthes of good cheer disdain, When on the throne of courage sits dismay, Ah mc, what do we gain? When sweetness, goodness, kindness all have died, When naught but broken, bleeding hearts re- main. When rough-shod o'er our better self we ride. Ah me, what do we gain ? 50 O, GIVE ME STRENGTH TO TAKE Thy love's as tender as the drooping rose that sadly says to earth : "No more have I the strength to take what thou giv'st me ;" But unlike her, alas, thy love's complaint of dearth : "Thou hast no strength to give what I demand of thee." Thy love hath heard the many whispered prom- ises of every soul ; His birth methinks is nigh coeval with the birth of time : He lives in death throughout the ages, and his goal Is hidden in the faded flowers from every clime. His soul is deeper than the sea and deepest cav- erns in its bed ; 'T is higher than the highest sky above our own ; 'T is purer than the morning dew a-dripping from the salvias red ; 'T is mightier than the four winds, blowing from every zone. This love hath offered me the keys of all his halls and towers, And to my heart with clinging kisses he ap- pealed ; But, ah, forgive me God ! must I the sweetest flowers Refuse because thev do not grow in Beauty's field? 51 WRITTEN AFTER READING KING LEAR Long is his course, O master of onr woes. And joys, and tears, oiu" passions and desires, In nature's school — in helLbegotten fires ; Dread is the agony and fell the throes Which with the Night and Storm he undergoes, W'hile Treason in his robes herself attires, And Love beneath adultery's sheet expires, .Vnd iriocked Sincerity sincerer grows. To vie with wailing winds and weeiMng clouds And valleys shrieking in the fangs of storms. This Hunian liurricanc thou didst create ; But just as soon as Death this horror shrouds, I hear the distant cry of fiery forms, Av, and tlie creaking of hell's deepest gate. NEAR THE CASCADES Hold back thy lips, I pray ; Just let nie rest this way; jMy soul is in the spray Arising from the silvery cascades nnn-muring farewell to the day. Thy kisses 'neath a sigh Of mine extinguished lie ; friend, I choke, I die : Pray, let me raise my head to see the parting light, the vivid sky, If every kiss of thine Is safe!}' kept with mine For one for whom I pine, AVouldst thou, contented with the taking, call my love a love divine? Ay, and for every tear Thou sheddest when I'm near 1 shed a score to hear ] Her echo my desire's sigh, albeit she is not thy \ peer. • ^ If I were but a reed. Or but a fern or weed. This would not be my creed ; But prick thou these cold slips and all the roots of me in heaven will bleed. Thy burniug breath is creeping xA.ll over me ; 't is leaping Into my bones and sweeping Their ashes out, up and into mine eyes, alas ! the awful reaping. 5^ No longer do I fear, Nor see, nor feel, nor hear ; No longer am I near ; If thou wilt quench thy flame, kiss now the lips that were to thee so dear. As well kiss thou the grass On which I lay, alas ! Like me, thou too wilt pass ; One kiss will turn thy lips to ashes and one tear, thine eyes to glass. Beneath this hemlock tree A clod I leave to thee ; But over land and sea My soul is rising, rising, rising, searching for the gods that be. But gods have lived, and lied. And loved, and fell, and died ; And like me too they cried For mercy at the snow white feet of Beauty's daughter, Beauty's bride. And when from Beauty's spell Her soul is free, she'll dwell In mine, the storm to quell : In mine she'll rise to realms of bliss, or swiftly whirl into the deepest hell. 54 ONWARD KEEP Onward keep ! Forget the self that cried : "This world's a forest choked with ice and snow ; No spark of fire through it can ever ride, No human flame in it can ever glow." And keeping onward, now, I find The golden leaves of yesterday All safely hidden from the wind Beneath the snow that melts away, And on the shivering boughs New leaves and tender sprout; They crown the winter's brows, And laugh away his doubt. And in the brook The echoes of What I forsook — What I did love. And the frost 'Neath the breath Of me must Welcome death ; And the heat Left behind Guides the feet Of the blind. Onward keep ; Laugh and weep ; Pain and joy Hide and peep. Rise and fall — Fall and rise ; This is all — This is wise. 55 L.ofC. ALLAH WA ANA Though I'm God, thou art man, we are one, We are all and we shall ever be ; Though the light of my sky thou didst shun, Thou shalt love me ere thy course is run, As forever I live loving thee. Thou art mine, 1 am thine and the fire Of my breath all thy regions shall warm, Ere the life in thy soil shall expire, Ere the seeds of thy basest desire From their prison break out and take form. Thou wilt doubt and deny me forsooth And rejoice in thy vanity's power ; Thou wilt die on the breast of my truth, Li the end thou wilt laugh at thy youth. And its wine although old will be sour. I was with thee when thou didst deny. As I am with thy mother at prayer ; I was with thee when thou didst defy My hell and my earth and my sky, And I love none the less those that dare. In the A'ogi's pagoda I am ; In the fire of the magi I was ; To the sons of Abraheem and Sham And their foes and to thee I undam All the banks of my veins on the cross. Through the spheres and the primitive throngs I came down and I struggled with thee ; Through the ages I sing in thy songs. But I leave thee to rise on thy wrongs ; — Thou shalt rise and thou shalt live in me. 56 IN MEMORY OF E. M. EL— K. When my parched Hps upon thy princely brow, Placid as tropic mead, as glacier cold, Imprinted a last farewell, where Vv'ert thou — Where didst thy soul its loveliness unfold? Can't be that in some undiscovered sphere The Muses sing their souls to thine in bliss ? Can't be that when I kiss thy forehead here A thousand angels echo there my kiss? What is this mask, where is the soul, O where. And from these eyes, O God, where went the light ? My silence cries within me in despair, My reason's sinking in this sea of Night. Esau, I am beside thee now alone, I dare not weep, I dare not even breathe ; But throug"h the stillness something hither blown Makes of thine amber locks a golden wreath. Life flutters in thy hair as in mine eyes; Death can not choke the breeze that whispers there A word of hope ; beneath my breath will rise A hair with God eternity to share The noon and eve of Life thou didst not see, But in its Dawn thou didst anticipate What jealous Night would not permit to be. What pain and suffering never could abate. Shall I strew on thee faded blossoms. Brother, Or fiery buds consumed by their own flame, Or myrrh and myrtle from our Mountain-mother, Or golden rods that whispered oft thy name? 57 Or, at the shrine of Liberty and Love, Where thou didst worship ardently and die, Shall I now join the gods come from above With thy sweet songs this shrine to beautify? Ye sapling-pines of star-kissed Lebanon, Ye cedars laden with a wealth of years, Send with the mist of dawn and the rising sun Your garlands, and your incense, and your tears. 58 TO ABU'L-ALA In thy melancholy's pensive Fancy Wisdom rolled its beauteons stars and moons, Just as in my riotings of pleasure Thy lone midnights roll into my noons. Abu'1-Ala, in thy glorious darkness Didst thou not remember imborn me? In thy journey to the farthest planets Didst thou not a burdened shadow see? Ay, behind the portals of Saturnus Secretly the cup to thee I passed ; Long, long after this cup thou returnest Filled with gems of fancy and recast. In thy Prison a thousand Yamen weapons Thou didst forge for the oppressed and weak : In my attic a thousand Beauty roses I pluck for thee from a Yankee cheek. 59 27 1905