THE dark hour turns so slowly and so sweet, <br />The last still hour soft-fallen from the stars. <br />To-morrow I may kneel and touch thy feet, <br />O Rose of all Shiraz. <br /> <br />Lay wide thine amorous lattice to the south, <br />O Silver Rose, when roses breathe thy name, <br />And thou at dawn shalt feel upon thy mouth <br />The kiss I dared not claim. <br /> <br />Discrowned, dishonoured, reft of pride and power, <br />From the red battle where they hailed me lord, <br />O Silver Rose, O sweet Pomegranate Flower, <br />I turn me to their sword. <br /> <br />Life hath so held me to an empty part, <br />Life hath so snared me, bound and made me blind. <br />To-morrow I may rest upon thy heart, <br />For death shall prove more kind.<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/o-silver-rose/
