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THE WEAVER'S APPRENTICE, by                    
First Line: Much they reproached me and reviled
Last Line: Caught in a huntsman's net.
Alternate Author Name(s): Rusafi, Muhammad Ibn Ghalib Al-


Much they reproached me and reviled
Because I loved him so:
'How could you ever have defiled
Yourself with one so low?'

Too well the truth I realise,
And, were it left to me,
I would have chosen otherwise;
But that was not to be.

I love him for his flashing smile,
The fragrance of his sighs,
His sweetest lips, the magic wile
Of his divinest eyes.

My little fawn! His fingers slim
About the spindle move
As swiftly as the thought of him
Provokes my heart to love.

His fingers play as recklessly
With shuttle and with loom
As all the fondest hopes in me
Are trifled with by doom.

His hands embrace the warp, as grope
His feet the woof to set;
He wrestles like an antelope
Caught in a huntsman's net.





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