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A poem by Laurence Hope |
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Written In Cananore |
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Title: Written In Cananore Author: Laurence Hope [More Titles by Hope] I Who was it held that Love was soothing or sweet? Who said that Beauty was ever a gentle joy? Though mine eyes rose up from thy Beauty's banquet, calm and refreshed, My soul was linked with thine, through speech and silent hours, But the body, that wretched slave of the Sultan, Mind, Nothing was granted him, and every rebellious cell Night is falling; thou hast departed; I am alone; II Somewhere, Oh, My Beloved One, the house is standing, But the Place is waiting there; till the Hour shall show it, Where we shall worship the greatest of all the Gods in his pomp and power,-- [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |