Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900/From the Arabic

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

613. From the Arabic

AN IMITATION

My faint spirit was sitting in the light
          Of thy looks, my love;
  It panted for thee like the hind at noon
          For the brooks, my love.
Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight,
          Bore thee far from me;
  My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,
          Did companion thee.

Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed,
          Or the death they bear,
  The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove
          With the wings of care;
In the battle, in the darkness, in the need,
          Shall mine cling to thee,
  Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love,
          It may bring to thee.

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