Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/335

Rh 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,

And princes offer me grace

To stay in the Syrian land;

But what is gold for, but for gifts?

And dark, without love, is the day;

And all that I see in Bagdat

Is the Tigris to float me away.

FROM HAFIZ