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Anonymous

"Moorish Literature"


With thee there is no other law of love and kindliness
But what alone may give thee joy and garland of success.
With each new plume thy maidens in thy dark locks arrange,
With each new tinted garment thy thoughts, thy fancies change.
I own that thou art fairer than even the fairest flower
That at the flush of early dawn bedecks the summer's bower.
But, ah, the flowers in summer hours change even till they fade,
And thou art changeful as the rose that withers in the shade.
And though thou art the mirror of beauty's glittering train,
Thy bosom has one blemish, thy mind one deadly stain;
For upon all alike thou shed'st the radiance of thy smile,
And this the treachery by which thou dost the world beguile.
I do not plead in my complaint thy loveliness is marred,
Because thy words are cruel, because thy heart is hard;
Would God that thou wert insensible as is the ocean wild
And not to all who meet thee so affable and mild;
Ah, sweetest is the lingering fruit that latest comes in time,
Ah, sweetest is the palm-tree's nut that those who reach must climb.


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