Here you will find thePoemIn The Gardens Of Shushanof poet Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
BE pitiful ! Her lips have touched this cool Clear stream that sets the long green leaves astir. The very doves that dream beside the pool Sang their soft notes to her. For her these doors that claim the amorous south, Bound in red bronze and stayed with cedar-wood. And here the bees sought honey from her mouth, So like a flower she stood. For her the globed pomegranates grew, and all Sweet savoury fruits rose perfect from their flower. Here has her soul known silence and the fall Of each enchanted hour. Under her feet all beauty was laid low, In her deep eyes all beauty was made clear. When the king called her through the evening glow, 'O Vashti, I am here !' Still the sweet wells return to me her face, Still her lost name on every wind is blown. The shadows and the silence of this place Are hers alone.
