Tuesday 21 July 2020

Hassan

  MASRUR
It is the Caliph's dawn.

                        JAFAR
Thy dawn, O Master!
                        ISHAK
        Thy dawn, O Master of the world, thy dawn;
        The hour the lilies open on the lawn,
        The hour the grey wings pass beyond the mountains,
        The hour of silence, when we hear the fountains,
        The hour that dreams are brighter and winds colder,
        The hour that young love wakes on a white shoulder,
        O Master of the world, the Persian Dawn.
        That hour, O Master, shall be bright for thee:
        Thy merchants chase the morning down the sea,
        The braves who fight thy war unsheathe the sabre,
        The slaves who work thy mines are lashed to labour,
        For thee the waggons of the world are drawn—
        The ebony of night, the red of dawn!
-copied from here.

1 comment:

Sean M. Brooks said...

Kaor, Paul!

I'm reminded of some of Kipling's poems about the king of Afghanistan, such as the grim "Ballad of the King's Justice."

Ad astra! Sean