Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: BLUEBEARD, by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON



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THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: BLUEBEARD, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: I was to wed young fatima
Last Line: "that night, in her own fatal hair."
Alternate Author Name(s): Meredith, Owen; Lytton, 1st Earl Of; Lytton, Robert
Subject(s): Netherlands; Travel; Holland; Dutch People; Journeys; Trips


I WAS to wed young Fatima,
As pure as April's snowdrops are,
In whose love lay hid my crooked life,
As in its sheath my scimitar.

Among the hot pomegranate boughs,
At sunset, here alone we sat.
To call back something from that hour
I'd give away my Caliphat.

She broke her song to gaze at me:
Her lips she leaned my lips above...
"Why art thou silent all this while,
Lord of my life, and of my love?"

"Silent I am, young Fatima,
For silent is my soul in me,
And language will not help the want
Of that which cannot ever be."

"But wherefore is thy spirit sad,
My lord, my love, my life?"...she said.
"Because thy face is wondrous like
The face of one I knew, that's dead."

"Ah cruel, cruel," cried Fatima,
"That I should not possess the past!
What woman's lips first kissed the lips
Where my kiss lived and lingered last?

"And she that's dead was loved by thee,
That so her memory moves thee yet?...
Thy face grows cold and white, as looks
The moon o'er yonder minaret!"

"Ay, Fatima! I loved her well,
With all of love's and life's despair,
Or else I had not strangled her,
That night, in her own fatal hair."





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