THOU camest to thy bower, my love, across the musky grove, To fan thy blooming charms within the coolness of the shade; Thy locks were like a midnight cloud with silver moon-beams wove, And o'er thy face the varying tints of youthful passion play'd. Thy breath was like the sandal-wood that casts a rich perfume, Thy blue eyes mock'd the lotos in the noon-day of his bloom; Thy cheeks were like the beamy flush that gilds the breaking day, And in th' ambrosia of thy smiles the god of rapture lay. Fair as the cairba-stone art thou, that stone of dazzling white, Ere yet unholy fingers chang'd its milk-white hue to night; And lovelier than the loveliest glance from Even's placid star, And brighter than the sea of gold, the gorgeous Himsagar. In high Mohammed's boundless heaven Al Cawthor's stream may play, The fount of youth may sparkling gush beneath the western ray; And Tasnim's wave in chrystal cups may glow with musk and wine, But oh! their lustre could not match one beauteous tear of thine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PSALM 121 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT LORD, HEAR MY PRAYER; A PARAPHRASE OF THE 102ND PSALM by JOHN CLARE JINNY THE JUST by MATTHEW PRIOR THE WORLD (1) by HENRY VAUGHAN A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |