Classic Poem

Across the terraces of grass
The peacock screams, " Alas! Alas! "
With head raised towards the Eastern sky
He tears the silence with his cry.

For he has known an older day
When Solomon in fine array
Has scattered grain and laughed to see
His strutting courtier's dignity.
For Solomon and all his queens
The peacock trailed his blues and greens,
For Solomon so great and wise
He flashed those lustrous, plumed eyes.
And now he mourns when he recalls
The golden throne, the cedared walls,
The Nubian slaves in silk attire
Who brought him food at his desire;
The little apes which tried in vain
To snatch a feather from his train;
The burning Eastern day, the shade
By wide-flung cedar branches made.
And once — how long ago it seems
That golden day of peacock dreams! —
The Queen of Sheba stood to gaze
Upon his beauty and to praise
The splendour of his outspread fan
While he performed his slow pavane
And with her jewelled hands caressed
The finer jewel of his breast.