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Updated: April 30, 2025
Thy grandsire sent his little treasure into Arabia and bought lands with it. After many trials he caused to grow thereon a rose-shrub which had no period of rest blooming freshly with every moon. And there he had the Puntish scentmaker on the hip, for the Arabic rose rested often. The attar he distilled from his untiring flower, had another odor, wild and sweet and of a daintier strength.
Take me to thee! Like the deep-rooted tree, My life is half in earth, and draws Thence all sweetness; oh may my being pause Soon beside thee! Welcome me soon! As to the queenly moon, Man's homage to my beauty sets; Yet am I a rose-shrub budding regrets: Welcome me soon. Soul of my soul! Have me not half, but whole. Dear dust, thou art my eyes, my breath!
Palm and tamarisk, acacia and rose-shrub, jasmine and purple mimosa made a multi-tinted jungle about a shadowy pool in which a white heron stood knee-deep. There were long stretches of sunlit sod, and walks of inlaid tile, seats of carved stone, and a single small obelisk, set on a circular slab, marked with measures for time the Egyptian sun-dial.
Take me to thee! Like the deep-rooted tree, My life is half in earth, and draws Thence all sweetness; oh may my being pause Soon beside thee! Welcome me soon! As to the queenly moon, Man's homage to my beauty sets; Yet am I a rose-shrub budding regrets: Welcome me soon. Soul of my soul! Have me not half, but whole. Dear dust, thou art my eyes, my breath!
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