How splendid in the morning glows <br />the lily; with what grace he throws <br />His supplication to the rose: <br />do roses nod the head, Yasmin? <br />But when the silver dove descends <br />I find the little flower of friends <br />Whose very name that sweetly ends <br />I say when I have said, 'Yasmin'. <br />The morning light is clear and cold, <br />I dare not in that light behold <br />A deeper light, a deeper gold <br />a glory too far shed, Yasmin. <br />But when the deep red eye of day <br />is level with the lone highway, <br />And some to Mecca turn to pray, <br />and I toward thy bed, Yasmin, <br />Or when the wind beneath the moon <br />is dazzling like a soul aswoon, <br />And harping planets talk love's tune <br />with milky wings outspread, Yasmin, <br />Shine down thy love, O burning bright! <br />for one night or the other night <br />Will come the Gardener in white, <br />and gather'd flowers are dead, Yasmin!<br /><br />James Elroy Flecker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hassan-s-serenade/
