How splendid in the morning glows the lily: with what grace he throws His supplication to the rose: do roses nod the head, Yasmin? But when the silver dove descends I find the little flower of friends Whose very name that sweetly ends I say when I have said, Yasmin. The morning light is clear and cold: I dare not in that light behold A whiter light, a deeper gold, a glory too far shed, Yasmin. But when the deep red eye of day is level with the lone highway, And some to Meccah turn to pray, and I toward thy bed, Yasmin; Or when the wind beneath the moon is drifting like a soul aswoon, And harping planets talk love's tune with milky wings outspread, Yasmin, Shower down thy love, O burning bright! For one night or the other night Will come the Gardener in white, and gathered flowers are dead, Yasmin. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...VERSES FOR CHILDREN: MAPLE TREE by ZEDA K. AILES WINGS AT DAWN by JOSEPH AUSLANDER ODE TO THE PAST by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE LAY OF THE LEGION by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN THE DEAD CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ON GRAY'S ELEGY by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 10. THE POPE by ROBERT BROWNING |