 | Poems |  |
OASIS.
How shall I thank thee, Lord for this repose?
This shelter from the noonday toil and heat:
This little spring more cool than Syrian snows,
This shadow of the palm-trees green and sweet.
This shelter from the noonday toil and heat:
This little spring more cool than Syrian snows,
This shadow of the palm-trees green and sweet.
Long have I wandered through the desert sands
With shrinking feet and fevered lips of fire,
Taunted and mocked with pictures of fresh lands,
That fled before the clasp of my desire.
With shrinking feet and fevered lips of fire,
Taunted and mocked with pictures of fresh lands,
That fled before the clasp of my desire.
How merciless were all the burning days
How dreary every still and brilliant night
What unrelenting tempests vexed my ways,
And hid with whirling sands each friendly light.
How dreary every still and brilliant night
What unrelenting tempests vexed my ways,
And hid with whirling sands each friendly light.
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Ah Lord! dear Lord! for thy great pity's sake,
Spare me this spot of soft and tranquil rest,
This hidden spring my human thirst to slake
This vernal shade to cool my panting breast!
Spare me this spot of soft and tranquil rest,
This hidden spring my human thirst to slake
This vernal shade to cool my panting breast!
Thou know'st I cannot linger by it long,
The city of my rest not far away,
Sends on the west-wind summons loud and long,
Only a few short hours can I delay.
The city of my rest not far away,
Sends on the west-wind summons loud and long,
Only a few short hours can I delay.
I will not soil this fountain with my lips,
Nor gather from its brink one single flower
Nor fright one bird that from its sweetness sips.
Spare me, dear Lord! to linger out mine hour!
Nor gather from its brink one single flower
Nor fright one bird that from its sweetness sips.
Spare me, dear Lord! to linger out mine hour!
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