From the Arabic, an Imitation
1792-1822
MY faint spirit was sitting in the light
Of thy looks, my love;
It panted for thee like the hind at noon
For the brooks, my love.
Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest's flight,
Bore thee far from me;
My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,
Did companion thee.
Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed,
Or the death they bear,
The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove
With 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.
DayPoems Poem No. 565
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/565.html">From the Arabic, an Imitation by Percy Bysshe Shelley</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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