Kusta ben Luka is my name, I write |
To Abd Al-Rabban; fellow-roysterer once, |
Now the good Caliphs
learned Treasurer, |
And for no ear but his. |
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Carry this letter |
Through the great gallery of the Treasure
House |
Where banners of the Caliphs hang, night-coloured |
But brilliant as the nights embroidery, |
And
wait wars music; pass the little gallery; |
Pass books of learning from Byzantium |
Written in gold upon
a purple stain, |
And pause at last, I was about to say, |
At the great book of Sapphos song; but no, |
For
should you leave my letter there, a boys |
Love-lorn, indifferent hands might come upon it |
And let it fall
unnoticed to the floor. |
Pause at the Treatise of Parmenides |
And hide it there, for Caliphs to worlds
end |
Must keep that perfect, as they keep her song, |
So great its fame. |
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When fitting time has passed |
The parchment will disclose to some learned man |
A mystery that else had found no chronicler |
But the
wild Bedouin. Though I approve |
Those wanderers that welcomed in their tents |
What great Harun Al-
Rashid, occupied |
With Persian embassy or Grecian war, |
Must needs neglect, I cannot hide the truth |
That wandering in a desert, featureless |
As air under a wing, can give birds wit. |
In after time they will
speak much of me |
And speak but fantasy. Recall the year |
When our beloved Caliph put to death |
His
Vizir Jaffer for an unknown reason: |
If but the shirt upon my body knew it |
Id tear it off and throw it in
the fire. |
That speech was all that the town knew, but he |
Seemed for a while to have grown young again; |
Seemed so on purpose, muttered Jaffers friends, |
That none might know that he was conscience-struck |
But thats a traitors thought. Enough for me |
That in the early summer of the year |
The mightiest of the
princes of the world |
Came to the least considered of his courtiers; |
Sat down upon the fountains marble
edge, |
One hand amid the goldfish in the pool; |
And thereupon a colloquy took place |
That I commend to
all the chroniclers |
To show how violent great hearts can lose |
Their bitterness and find the honeycomb. |
I have brought a slender bride into the house; |
You know the saying, Change the bride with spring, |
And she and I, being sunk in happiness, |
Cannot endure to think you tread these paths, |
When evening
stirs the jasmine bough, and yet |
Are brideless. |
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I am falling into years. |
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But such as you and I do not
seem old |
Like men who live by habit. Every day |
I ride with falcon to the rivers edge |
Or carry the ringed
mail upon my back, |
Or court a woman; neither enemy, |
Game-bird, nor woman does the same thing twice; |
And so a hunter carries in the eye |
A mimicry of youth. Can poets thought |
That springs from body and
in body falls |
Like this pure jet, now lost amid blue sky, |
Now bathing lily leaf and fishs scale, |
Be mimicry? |
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What matter if our souls |
Are nearer to the surface of the body |
Than souls that start no game and turn
no rhyme! |
The souls own youth and not the bodys youth |
Shows through our lineaments. My candles
bright, |
My lantern is too loyal not to show |
That it was made in your great fathers reign. |
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And yet the
jasmine season warms our blood. |
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Great prince, forgive the freedom of my speech: |
You think that love
has seasons, and you think |
That if the spring bear off what the spring gave |
The heart need suffer no
defeat; but I |
Who have accepted the Byzantine faith, |
That seems unnatural to Arabian minds, |
Think when
I choose a bride I choose for ever; |
And if her eye should not grow bright for mine |
Or brighten only for
some younger eye, |
My heart could never turn from daily ruin, |
Nor find a remedy. |
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But what if I |
Have lit
upon a woman who so shares |
Your thirst for those old crabbed mysteries, |
So strains to look beyond
our life, an eye |
That never knew that strain would scarce seem bright, |
And yet herself can seem youths
very fountain, |
Being all brimmed with life? |
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Were it but true |
I would have found the best that life can
give, |
Companionship in those mysterious things |
That make a mans soul or a womans soul |
Itself and
not some other soul. |
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That love |
Must needs be in this life and in what follows |
Unchanging and at peace,
and it is right |
Every philosopher should praise that love. |
But I being none can praise its opposite. |
It
makes my passion stronger but to think |
Like passion stirs the peacock and his mate, |
The wild stag and
the doe; that mouth to mouth |
Is a mans mockery of the changeless soul. |
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And thereupon his bounty
gave what now |
Can shake more blossom from autumnal chill |
Than all my bursting springtime knew.
A girl |
Perched in some window of her mothers house |
Had watched my daily passage to and fro; |
Had
heard impossible history of my past; |
Imagined some impossible history |
Lived at my side; thought times
disfiguring touch |
Gave but more reason for a womans care. |
Yet was it love of me, or was it love |
Of
the stark mystery that has dazed my sight, |
Perplexed her fantasy and planned her care? |
Or did the
torchlight of that mystery |
Pick out my features in such light and shade |
Two contemplating passions
chose one theme |
Through sheer bewilderment? She had not paced |
The garden paths, nor counted
up the rooms, |
Before she had spread a book upon her knees |
And asked about the pictures or the text; |
And often those first days I saw her stare |
On old dry writing in a learned tongue, |
On old dry faggots
that could never please |
The extravagance of spring; or move a hand |
As if that writing or the figured page |