Page:The Golden Threshold.djvu/70

 And they, who worshipping the sun, Fled o'er the old Iranian sea; And they, who bow to Him who trod The midnight waves of Galilee.

Sweet, sumptuous fables of Baghdad The splendours of your court recall, The torches of a Thousand Nights Blaze through a single festival; And Saki-singers down the streets, Pour for us, in a stream divine, From goblets of your love-ghazals The rapture of your Sufi wine.

Prince, where your radiant cities smile^ Grim hills their sombre vigils keep, Your ancient forests hoard and hold The legends of their centuried sleep; Your birds of peace white-pinioned float O'er ruined fort and storied plain, Your faithful stewards sleepless guard The harvests of your gold and grain.