Clark Ashton Smith
An Oriental Song - Poem by Clark Ashton Smith
The last red rays of the sun are glowing
On minaret and wall,
Slowly they sink, so slowly going,
And the shadows spread o'er all.
And loudly thru the gleaming rings
The muezzin's call to prayer.
I smile, and think of other things,
Of heaven, and all that is there.
Yet into my brain there steals
Slowly, sweet thoughts of thee.
While my knee to Allah kneels,
My heart, in secret, kneels to thee.
My brain is a chamber haunted
By the image of thy face.
'Tis a holy shrine, enchanted,
By thy lingering, sensuous grace.
But welcome the ghost that haunts me,
The image of my sweet.
Dear is the face that enchants me,
And the eyes have brought me to thy feet.
Where are the waters that can quench
My quenchless love for thee?
For there is no earthly power or strength
That can separate thou and me.
Comments about An Oriental Song by Clark Ashton Smith
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl