JAMES ELROY FLECKER
But when the silver dove descends
I find the little flower of friends
Whose very name that sweetly ends
I say when I have said 'Yasmin'.
The morning light is clear and cold,
I dare not in that light behold
A deeper light, a deeper gold
a glory too far shed, Yasmin.
But when the deep red eye of day
is tavel with the lone highway,
And some to Mecca turn to pray,
and I toward thy bed, Yasmin,
Or when the wind beneath the moon
is dazzling like a soul aswoon,
And harping planets talk love's tune
with milky wings outspread, Yasmin,
Shine down thy love, O burning bright'
for one night or the other night
Will come the Gardener in white,
and gather'd flowers are dead, Yasmin!
b. 1886
956
Night Song for a Child!
SLEEP, our lord, and for thy peace
Let thy mother's softer voice
Pray thy patrons to increase
Freedom from all light and noise.
Hark, her invocation draws
To thy guard those princely Laws!
1130
