I AM no chieftain, fit to lead Where spears are hurled and warriors bleed; No poet, in my chanted rhyme To rouse the ghosts of ancient time; No magian, with a subtle ken To rule the thoughts of other men; Yet far as sounds the Arab tongue My name is known to old and young. My form has lost its pliant grace, There is no beauty in my face, There is no cunning in my arm, The Children of the Sun to charm; Yet, where I go, my people's eyes Are lighted with a glad surprise, And in each tent a couch is free, And by each fire a place, for me. They watch me from the palms, and some Proclaim my coming ere I come. The children lift my hand to meet The homage of their kisses sweet; With manly warmth the men embrace, The veiled maidens seek my face, And eyes, fresh kindled from the heart Keep loving watch when I depart. On God, the Merciful, I call, To shed His blessing over all: I praise His name, for He is Great, And Loving, and Compassionate; And for the gift of love I give -- The breath of life whereby I live -- He gives me back, in overflow, His children's love, where'er I go. Deep sunk in sin the man must be That has no friendly word for me. I pass through tribes whose trade is death, And not a sabre quits the sheath; For strong, and cruel as they prove, The sons of men are weak to Love. The humblest gifts to them I bring; Yet in their hearts I rule, a king. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: INSCRIPTION FOR A PORTRAIT OF DANTE by GIOVANNI BOCCACCIO A LEGEND OF THE NORTHLAND by PHOEBE CARY ON THE RESURRECTION OF CHRIST by WILLIAM DUNBAR A TRAMPWOMAN'S TRAGEDY by THOMAS HARDY A PROPHECY by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 1: 8. DEPARTURE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE MORAL ESSAYS: EPISTLE 2. TO A LADY: OF THE CHARACTERS OF WOMEN by ALEXANDER POPE |