Poems eBook

Denis Florence MacCarthy
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 170 pages of information about Poems.

THE FLUTE

FROM HILALI

Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains,
Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh;
Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,—­
If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I?

TO THE SHAH

FROM HAFIZ

Thy foes to hunt, thy enviers to strike down,
Poises Arcturus aloft morning and evening his spear.

TO THE SHAH

FROM ENWERI

Not in their houses stand the stars,
But o’er the pinnacles of thine!

TO THE SHAH

FROM ENWERI

From thy worth and weight the stars gravitate, And the equipoise of heaven is thy house’s equipoise.

SONG OF SEYD NIMETOLLAH OF KUHISTAN

[Among the religious customs of the dervishes is an astronomical dance, in which the dervish imitates the movements of the heavenly bodies, by spinning on his own axis, whilst at the same time he revolves round the Sheikh in the centre, representing the sun; and, as he spins, he sings the Song of Seyd Nimetollah of Kuhistan.]

Spin the ball!  I reel, I burn,
Nor head from foot can I discern,
Nor my heart from love of mine,
Nor the wine-cup from the wine. 
All my doing, all my leaving,
Reaches not to my perceiving;
Lost in whirling spheres I rove,
And know only that I love.

I am seeker of the stone,
Living gem of Solomon;
From the shore of souls arrived,
In the sea of sense I dived;
But what is land, or what is wave,
To me who only jewels crave? 
Love is the air-fed fire intense,
And my heart the frankincense;
As the rich aloes flames, I glow,
Yet the censer cannot know. 
I’m all-knowing, yet unknowing;
Stand not, pause not, in my going.

Ask not me, as Muftis can,
To recite the Alcoran;
Well I love the meaning sweet,—­
I tread the book beneath my feet.

Lo! the God’s love blazes higher,
Till all difference expire. 
What are Moslems? what are Giaours? 
All are Love’s, and all are ours. 
I embrace the true believers,
But I reck not of deceivers. 
Firm to Heaven my bosom clings,
Heedless of inferior things;
Down on earth there, underfoot,
What men chatter know I not.

* * * * *

V

APPENDIX

* * * * *

THE POET

I

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Poems from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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