William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.
To a Persian Manuscript
B
There is always a garden—
A lawn, close-clipped and pale,
Studded with flowers;
There they have placed a chair
For the happy guest,
And slim high-bosomed maidens
Bring flesh and figs and wine
In bowls of peacock blue.
Go elephants in caravan,
And horsemen ride through forest tracery
Of gold and flowers
To cities
Arched and white against the sky.
Opening on a golden world—
Blooming-islands on a sea
Of dim, dust colored vellum,
While the ripples—
Painted rhythms,
Sable characters—
Bear challenge to the wit
More potent still
Than half-guessed imagery
Of illumined page.
Divines with thirsty heart
The hidden flash of fountains,
So to me, among these silent books,
Is borne the cadence of a desert tongue,
And beauty blossoms here
Upon my knees.