قراءة كتاب In the Great Steep's Garden
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 3
stones tear at her little white feet?
Did the storm winds harry with stinging sleet,
Or the mad seas bid her stay?
Ah, Allah is great; but Love is great
When the woman-heart needs make atoning and wait:
She has led him back to the crystal gate,—
Together they entered there.
The Great Steep’s Garden is musked today:
The spices of Araby over it lay,
For Love’s handmaiden has passed this way,
Forget-me-nots tressed in her hair.
When the woman-heart needs make atoning and wait:
She has led him back to the crystal gate,—
Together they entered there.
The Great Steep’s Garden is musked today:
The spices of Araby over it lay,
For Love’s handmaiden has passed this way,
Forget-me-nots tressed in her hair.
Indian Paint Brush.
Brave bold warrior, standing afar
On the summit place where the wind-torn pine
At the battle front of the timberline
Knows never an end of the harrowing war
Of Life on Death!—and there arrayed
In the trappings of battle and unafraid,
Painted and feathered in hostile design,
Indian chief on the marching line!
On the summit place where the wind-torn pine
At the battle front of the timberline
Knows never an end of the harrowing war
Of Life on Death!—and there arrayed
In the trappings of battle and unafraid,
Painted and feathered in hostile design,
Indian chief on the marching line!
Arctic Gentian.
Beyond the reach of the timberline,
The long trail lifting, lifting,
Past wizened gardens of low gaunt pine,
Crouching out of the great storm’s path:
The last tree flees from the arctic wrath,
But on is the white trail lifting.
The long trail lifting, lifting,
Past wizened gardens of low gaunt pine,
Crouching out of the great storm’s path:
The last tree flees from the arctic wrath,
But on is the white trail lifting.
Cities and rivers and fields beseem
A fantasy, fading, fading,
Lost away in the myth of a dream:
And the wide land reaches beyond our eyes,
A Navajo carpet of strange soft dyes:
Patterned with cities the great web lies,
Woven with fantasies, fading.
A fantasy, fading, fading,
Lost away in the myth of a dream:
And the wide land reaches beyond our eyes,
A Navajo carpet of strange soft dyes:
Patterned with cities the great web lies,
Woven with fantasies, fading.
Rolls in the tide and the cloud waves toss,
The reach of the long land merging:
Where the still white surges part and cross
The quivering vistas seem to be
Of a lost land under the waves of a sea.
O summit flower, what strange waves toss
Below in the long, long surging!
The reach of the long land merging:
Where the still white surges part and cross
The quivering vistas seem to be
Of a lost land under the waves of a sea.
O summit flower, what strange waves toss
Below in the long, long surging!
Alpine Primrose.
Happy Heart coming home from the far, far hills,
How the primrose flamed in the arctic chills!
And you heard the flutes of the summit
How the primrose flamed in the arctic chills!
And you heard the flutes of the summit
