Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
The Poet in the East
By Bayard Taylor (18251878)T
When Spring was in the air:
The Earth was dressed for a wedding feast,
So young she seemed, and fair;
And the Poet knew the Land of the East,—
His soul was native there.
Of early and precious dreams,—
Familiar visions that mocked his quest
Beside the Western streams,
Or gleamed in the gold of the clouds, unrolled
In the sunset’s dying beams.
And the Sun sat on his throne;
The breath of gardens, deep in balm,
Was all about him blown,
And a brother to him was the princely Palm,
For he cannot live alone.
And the flowers their welcome shed;
The meads of milk-white asphodel
They knew the Poet’s tread,
And far and wide, in a scarlet tide,
The poppy’s bonfire spread.
The Rose sat in her bower,
With a passionate thrill in her crimson heart,—
She had waited for the hour!
And, like a bride’s, the Poet kissed
The lips of the glorious flower.
In the boughs of the citron-tree,
Sang: “We are no rivals, brother mine,
Except in minstrelsy;
For the rose you kissed with the kiss of love,
She is faithful still to me.”
“Your bower not distant lies.
I heard the sound of a Persian lute
From the jasmined window rise,
And, twin-bright stars, through the lattice-bars,
I saw the Sultana’s eyes.”
In the Sun’s unclouded door;
Here are the wells of all delight
On the lost Arcadian shore:
Here is the light on sea and land,
And the dream deceives no more.”