A pen--to register; a key--
That winds through secret wards
Are well assigned to Memory
By allegoric Bards.
As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Outstrips the heart's demand;
......
Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, where every sport could please,
How often have I loitered o'er your green,
Where humble happiness endeared each scene;
How often have I paused on every charm,
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
......
LOVE, I renounce thy tyrant sway,
I mock thy fascinating art,
MINE, be the calm unruffled day,
That brings no torment to the heart;
The tranquil mind, the noiseless scene,
Where FANCY, with enchanting mien,
Shall in her right-hand lead along
The graceful patroness of Song;
Where HARMONY shall softly fling
Her light tones o'er the dulcet string;
......
My zealous passion for marathons, had me in frequent races,
Striving always for that finish line, and touring many places.
I always seemed to come alive, with cool breezes rushing by,
Feeling footloose and fancy-free, like blackbirds in a blue sky.
And when I crossed the finish line, I would get a certain thrill,
Like a thrilling moonlit evening, as you hear the whippoorwill!
I was in the midst of happy days, like magnolias awash in sun,
......
Despite the abundant admonitions of the most illustrious Sheikh Abulfaraj Ben Juzi to shun musical entertainments and to prefer solitude and retirement, the budding of my youth overcame me, my sensual desires were excited so that, unable to resist them, I walked some steps contrary to the opinion of my tutor, enjoying myself in musical amusements and convivial meetings. When the advice of my sheikh occurred to my mind, I said:
‘If the qazi were sitting with us, he would clap his hands.
If the muhtasib were bibbing wine, he would excuse a drunkard.’
Thus I lived till I paid one night a visit to an assembly of people in which I saw a musician.
Thou wouldst have said he is tearing up the vital artery with his fiddle-bow.
His voice was more unpleasant than the wailing of one who lost his father.
......
They say youth is but momentary,
An emotional journey, a fleeting mirage,
Where uncharted waters are a treat not a foil
Tempered only by fates willful barrage.
But as time marches on and life settles in
with a rhythm well known and rehearsed,
A mixture of joy, tedium and tears
To the beat of our life we're soon versed.
......
My zealous passion for marathons, had me in frequent races,
Striving always for that finish line, and touring many places.
I always seemed to come alive, with cool breezes rushing by,
Feeling footloose and fancy-free, like blackbirds in a blue sky.
And when I crossed the finish line, I would get a certain thrill,
Like a thrilling moonlit evening, as you hear the whippoorwill!
I was in the midst of happy days, like magnolias awash in sun,
......
A pen--to register; a key--
That winds through secret wards
Are well assigned to Memory
By allegoric Bards.
As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Outstrips the heart's demand;
......
Fresh fields and woods! the Earth's fair face,
God's foot-stool, and man's dwelling-place.
I ask not why the first Believer
Did love to be a country liver?
Who to secure pious content
Did pitch by groves and wells his tent;
Where he might view the boundless sky,
And all those glorious lights on high;
With flying meteors, mists and show'rs,
Subjected hills, trees, meads and flow'rs;
......
Hail sacred shades! cool, leavy House!
Chaste treasurer of all my vows,
And wealth! on whose soft bosom laid
My love's fair steps I first betrayed:
Henceforth no melancholy flight,
No sad wing, or hoarse bird of night,
Disturb this air, no fatal throat
Of raven, or owl, awake the note
Of our laid echo, no voice dwell
Within these leaves, but Philomel.
......