The Pensile Gardens of Babylon
THERE beauty’s footsteps lingered in the softAnd poignant semitones that sped aloft,In perfumes wavering with finger-tipsSo faint, they scarcely fluttered on the lips.There caravans would halt in flame of dayAnd many turbaned wanderers would strayTo cool their brown-limbed bodies in the deepAnd juicy foam of fountains, where would leapEternal jets of water-diamondsLimned intricate like myriad leafy fronds,Wetting the marble rims with amber showersThroughout the endless ballet of the hours....There Bedouins with liquid amorous eyesWould listen to the piercing notes ariseFrom shrilly-vivid parokeets, or pauseTo overhear the chattering macawsAnd watch the cranes with slender, supple necksPreening the feathered shadows into flecksOf purpled hues and finest, mordant white,Or spy the swans ascend in snowy flightOver the swinging canopy of leaves;Whither the sky suavely interweavesA labyrinth of azure-rifted clouds.Where saffron-throated birds in whirring crowdsWould weep celestial music with their wings,And tawny monkeys, tiny nimble things,Would play their melodramas in the trees,And throbbing swarms of honey-sucking beesVibrate the petalled air in droning waves,And mingle with the murmuring of slaves.When shadow night is poisoned by the fangsOf daily death, with new redoubled pangsShe crackles up in films of aëry haze,Until the reeling sun with outworn raysIs hacked to slivers and his regal veinsSpurt crimson jets of flame along the plains,Suffused to blazing chaos when the skyWrithes into darkness and her empery.Then throb the pensile gardens to a swoon,The great rose-yellow petal of the moonCurved, white and hovering above the trees,Shivers a gelid lucency to freezeThe gold of sunset into coldest hues—A monochrome of silver-tinted blues.God’s pyrotechnics, shooting star cascadesSplash, sliding, sizzling, ever-whirling bladesOr cataracts and dagger jerks of lightIn infinite gyrations down the night.The hump-backed camels, roding lupanarsOf clouds that lust enamoured of the stars,Shimmering jewelled pinpricks wistfullyAwed by the vastness and the mysteryWrapped palpitating round. Then fold on foldThe shoulders of the hills are outlined boldWith pallid smoothness, undulating farTo where the empty, trackless deserts are.
THERE beauty’s footsteps lingered in the softAnd poignant semitones that sped aloft,In perfumes wavering with finger-tipsSo faint, they scarcely fluttered on the lips.There caravans would halt in flame of dayAnd many turbaned wanderers would strayTo cool their brown-limbed bodies in the deepAnd juicy foam of fountains, where would leapEternal jets of water-diamondsLimned intricate like myriad leafy fronds,Wetting the marble rims with amber showersThroughout the endless ballet of the hours....There Bedouins with liquid amorous eyesWould listen to the piercing notes ariseFrom shrilly-vivid parokeets, or pauseTo overhear the chattering macawsAnd watch the cranes with slender, supple necksPreening the feathered shadows into flecksOf purpled hues and finest, mordant white,Or spy the swans ascend in snowy flightOver the swinging canopy of leaves;Whither the sky suavely interweavesA labyrinth of azure-rifted clouds.Where saffron-throated birds in whirring crowdsWould weep celestial music with their wings,And tawny monkeys, tiny nimble things,Would play their melodramas in the trees,And throbbing swarms of honey-sucking beesVibrate the petalled air in droning waves,And mingle with the murmuring of slaves.When shadow night is poisoned by the fangsOf daily death, with new redoubled pangsShe crackles up in films of aëry haze,Until the reeling sun with outworn raysIs hacked to slivers and his regal veinsSpurt crimson jets of flame along the plains,Suffused to blazing chaos when the skyWrithes into darkness and her empery.Then throb the pensile gardens to a swoon,The great rose-yellow petal of the moonCurved, white and hovering above the trees,Shivers a gelid lucency to freezeThe gold of sunset into coldest hues—A monochrome of silver-tinted blues.God’s pyrotechnics, shooting star cascadesSplash, sliding, sizzling, ever-whirling bladesOr cataracts and dagger jerks of lightIn infinite gyrations down the night.The hump-backed camels, roding lupanarsOf clouds that lust enamoured of the stars,Shimmering jewelled pinpricks wistfullyAwed by the vastness and the mysteryWrapped palpitating round. Then fold on foldThe shoulders of the hills are outlined boldWith pallid smoothness, undulating farTo where the empty, trackless deserts are.
THERE beauty’s footsteps lingered in the soft
And poignant semitones that sped aloft,
In perfumes wavering with finger-tips
So faint, they scarcely fluttered on the lips.
There caravans would halt in flame of day
And many turbaned wanderers would stray
To cool their brown-limbed bodies in the deep
And juicy foam of fountains, where would leap
Eternal jets of water-diamonds
Limned intricate like myriad leafy fronds,
Wetting the marble rims with amber showers
Throughout the endless ballet of the hours....
There Bedouins with liquid amorous eyes
Would listen to the piercing notes arise
From shrilly-vivid parokeets, or pause
To overhear the chattering macaws
And watch the cranes with slender, supple necks
Preening the feathered shadows into flecks
Of purpled hues and finest, mordant white,
Or spy the swans ascend in snowy flight
Over the swinging canopy of leaves;
Whither the sky suavely interweaves
A labyrinth of azure-rifted clouds.
Where saffron-throated birds in whirring crowds
Would weep celestial music with their wings,
And tawny monkeys, tiny nimble things,
Would play their melodramas in the trees,
And throbbing swarms of honey-sucking bees
Vibrate the petalled air in droning waves,
And mingle with the murmuring of slaves.
When shadow night is poisoned by the fangs
Of daily death, with new redoubled pangs
She crackles up in films of aëry haze,
Until the reeling sun with outworn rays
Is hacked to slivers and his regal veins
Spurt crimson jets of flame along the plains,
Suffused to blazing chaos when the sky
Writhes into darkness and her empery.
Then throb the pensile gardens to a swoon,
The great rose-yellow petal of the moon
Curved, white and hovering above the trees,
Shivers a gelid lucency to freeze
The gold of sunset into coldest hues—
A monochrome of silver-tinted blues.
God’s pyrotechnics, shooting star cascades
Splash, sliding, sizzling, ever-whirling blades
Or cataracts and dagger jerks of light
In infinite gyrations down the night.
The hump-backed camels, roding lupanars
Of clouds that lust enamoured of the stars,
Shimmering jewelled pinpricks wistfully
Awed by the vastness and the mystery
Wrapped palpitating round. Then fold on fold
The shoulders of the hills are outlined bold
With pallid smoothness, undulating far
To where the empty, trackless deserts are.