The Rajahs Sapphires

In my garden, O Beloved!     Many pleasant trees are growing,     Peach, and apricot, and apple,     Myrtle, lilac, and laburnum.     Fair are they, but midst them lonely,     Like an exiled Eastern Princess     In a strange land far from kindred,     Stands a lonely fair Pomegranate.     Dreaming of its native Orient     Always is the fair Pomegranate,     And beneath it I lie dreaming     Of thine eyes and thee, Beloved!     Overhead its red globes, gleaming     Like red moons, old tales recall of     Eastern moons and songs of Hafiz,     Nightingales, and wine, and roses.     And at times it seems a mystic     Tree Circan, whose red fruit is     Broken hearts of old-time lovers,     Thus their secrets sad revealing.     And within each red sun-cloven     Glossy globe, like little rosy     Hearts within a great heart glowing,     Glow translucent seeds of crimson.     Like the fruit of the Pomegranate     Full of little hearts my heart is,     And the little hearts so glowing     They are thoughts of thee, Beloved!     Haply these at times are woven     In with dreams of the Pomegranate;     Thus, perchance, I dreamt the wondrous     Dream within a dream here written.     In his palace-hall, methought, I     Saw a splendid Indian Rajah;     Fame and Fortune were his vassals,     But his heart was sad within him.     Round him stood his chiefs and captains.     Great art thou, they cried, O Rajah!     And thy hand is strong in battle.     But he smiled not at their speeches.     Silently through his Zenana     Passed he, glanced with cold and careless     Eyes at women, fair as houris     Seen in visions bred of hasheesh.     Like to dawn, and noon, and starry     Night, like all the moods of passion,     Were they, rose-and-white Circassians,     Amber Hindoos, dark-eyed Persians.     Dancing girls with golden armlets,     Golden rings around their ankles,     Making music clear, melodious     As the plash of crystal fountains     Heard in still, hot nights of summer,     Danced the Lovers Dance before him;     But he heeded not their dancing,     For his heart was sad within him.     Thence unto his treasure-chamber     Strode he, there to gaze on gems that     Rajahs dead had won and hoarded;     Tragic-storied, splendid jewels,     Flashing diamonds, like fallen     Stars, for whose bright evil beauty     Blood in old days had been spilt that     Should have made them burn like rubies;     Emeralds greener than Springs garments,     Pearls like unto tears of Peris     Weeping by the gates of Eden;     Opals with their fateful lustre.     Long on these, and countless other     Many-coloured gems, the Rajah     Gazed, but found no more delight in     Their sun-flashing brilliant beauty.     He had dreamt a dream enchanting     Of twin-sapphires, blue as Heaven,     And his heart was filled with hunger     And with yearning to possess them.     Therefore unto his Vizier he     Told his dream, and gave command that     He should seek the wide world over,     Till he found the wondrous sapphires.     Doth that sad Vizier still wander     Oer the earth the sapphires seeking?     Sooth, I know not, but I know that     He will never find them, never.     For they were no cold, bright sapphires     That the Rajah in his dream saw. . . .     Waking from my dream I knew that     They were thy blue eyes, Beloved!