BE pitiful ! Her lips have touched this cool <br />Clear stream that sets the long green leaves astir. <br />The very doves that dream beside the pool <br />Sang their soft notes to her. <br /> <br />For her these doors that claim the amorous south, <br />Bound in red bronze and stayed with cedar-wood. <br />And here the bees sought honey from her mouth, <br />So like a flower she stood. <br /> <br />For her the globed pomegranates grew, and all <br />Sweet savoury fruits rose perfect from their flower. <br />Here has her soul known silence and the fall <br />Of each enchanted hour. <br /> <br />Under her feet all beauty was laid low, <br />In her deep eyes all beauty was made clear. <br />When the king called her through the evening glow, <br />'O Vashti, I am here !' <br /> <br />Still the sweet wells return to me her face, <br />Still her lost name on every wind is blown. <br />The shadows and the silence of this place <br />Are hers alone.<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-gardens-of-shushan/
