And thou, no negro but a slender Moor, Turbaned and mailed and armed against disaster— What child was Giafar that could be Mesrour? Or who was Caliph, but that he was master? No executioner of bloody rites, But Haroun's friend, his warrior and warden, And his companion through those secret nights In many an odorous room or lamp-lit garden! And, more than all, thy unknown title, heard As of rich strangeness a more rich reflection, 'Mesrour the eunuch'—O romantic word Clothing thee in mysterious perfection! Now, ere late truth tread the enchanted floor, Return, Mesrour; return, return, Mesrour! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TAM O' SHANTER by ROBERT BURNS CHILDREN by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR A BIRTHDAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI KEARNY AT SEVEN PINES [MAY 31, 1862] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN PIONEERS! O PIONEERS! by WALT WHITMAN BUONAPARTE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE DEMON DAWN by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |