The Sinjib Tree
I am the flowery Sinjib tree,
The sweetest thing in the world,
With silvery leaves on a rugged stem
And golden bugs incurled.
Oh, traveller, turn thy face to me
Ere ever thy tent be furled.
Bring here the maiden ot thy desire
In my scented shade to rest,
And be she cold as bitterest snow
On Takht-i-Suliman's crest,
Yet she shall open her arms to thee
And entreat to be caressed.
And she shall crave for thy love and thee,
Who was erst so coldly calm,
For the subtle scents of my honeyed flowers
Shall soothe her like a charm,
Till she shall long for a child of thine
To nestle within her arm.
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