Saturday, September 6, 2014

Palabras Grandiosa after T B A

I lay in the bosom of the sun,
Under the roses dappled and dun.
I thought of the Saltan Gingerbeer,
In his palace beside the Bendemeer,
With his Afghan guards and his eunuchs blind,
And the harem that stretched for a league behind
The tulips bent in the summer breeze,
Under the broad chrysanthemum tree's,
And the minstrel, playing his culvarin,'
Made for mine ears a merry din.
If I were the Sultan, and he were I,
Here in the grass he should loafing lie,
And I should bestride my zebra steed,
And the ride of the hunt of the centipede:
While the Pet of the harem, Dandeline,
Should fill me a crystal bucket of wine,
And the kislar aga, up to Snuff,
Should wipe my mouth when I sighed Enough!
And the gay court-poet, Fearfulbore,
Should sit in the hall when the hunt was o'er;
And chant me songs of silvery tone,
Not from Hafiz, but-mine own!
Ah, wee sweet love, beside me here,
I am not the Sultan Gingerbeer,
Nor you the odalisque Dandeline,
Yet, I am yourn, and you are mine!


No comments:

Post a Comment