From the Arabic: An Imitation
My faint spirit was sitting in the lightOf thy looks, my love;It panted for thee like the hind at noonFor the brooks, my love.Thy barb whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flightBore thee far from me;My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,Did companion thee.
Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steedOr the death they bear,The heart which tender thought clothes like a doveWith the wings of care;In the battle, in the darkness, in the need,Shall mine cling to thee,Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love,It may bring to thee.
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