( AFTER A PERSIAN SONG .)

Narcissus-Flowers, drunk with dews of night,
Her eyelids droop to veil a scornful light,
And on her fair brow curl the black love locks,
Twin serpents on the pale orb of the moon.

O breath of roses, rose of red and white,
O voice of bulbul in the wooded height,
I care not if her languid smile but mocks,
A smile from her is Allah's greatest boon.

I only dream! — her veil close hides her face,
The jealous curtain of a holy place;
A rose's hundred leaves on heart of gold
Are not so careful of the gem they hold.

If she should smile and wear a veil of lace,
Another man might look, — such looks deface
And make a treasure common; sweet the fold
That wraps her from me — and the vile and bold!