Many the nights that have passed,But I rememberThe river of pearls at FezAnd Seomar whom I loved.
Laurence Hope, 1903
The corners of the frontispiece yellow from their darker edges.Aching eyes lift in tremolo from their darker edges.
Moon lit your blood in the jasmine-blooming gardens;bodies still glide in tableau from their darker edges.
Your "hungry soul" laps at the page with its "burning, burning";your moans send out an echo from their darker edges.
Silk covers your arms, your fingers, your lips, your voice.Your black lines weave a trousseau from their darker edges.
Wind strikes at the palm trees where you walked;fronds shake like tousled arrows from their darker edges.
Your nights spread quiet over "parched and dreary" sand.Finches fill them till they glow from their darker edges.
