 | Firdausi in Exile and Other Poems |  |
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[Dearest and most inseparable Friend]
Dearest and most inseparable Friend,Why is it that the thought of thee is bound
With one small plot of honey-scented ground,
Through which a murmuring river without end
Flows, while its eddies with the grasses blend?
Have I been there with thee? Has that low sound
In thy wise voice a tenderer echo found?
What valley is this towards which my dreams descend?
Is it that corner of your leaguered brain,
Shut in by high ambitions, and the stress
Of battling hopes and godlike imagery,
Where you grow hushed and like a child again,
Shifting your armour for an easier dress,
To sit an hour and hold me company?
| Firdausi in Exile and Other Poems | |