Page:May-day and other pieces, Emerson, 1867.djvu/208

196 FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI.

Farsistan the violet spreads

Its leaves to the rival sky;

I ask how far is the Tigris flood,

And the vine that grows thereby?

Except the amber morning wind,

Not one salutes me here;

There is no lover in all Bagdat

To offer the exile cheer.

I know that thou, O morning wind!

O'er Kernan's meadow blowest,

And thou, heart-warming nightingale!

My father's orchard knowest.

The merchant hath stuffs of price,

And gems from the sea-washed strand,