Our sister sayeth such and such,
And we must bow to her behests;
Our sister toileth overmuch,
Our little maid that hath no breasts.

THE LOVE SONG OF HAR DYAL

Alone upon the housetops to the North
I turn and watch the lightning in the sky—­
The glamour of thy footsteps in the North.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die.

Below my feet the still bazar is laid—­
Far, far below the weary camels lie—­
The camels and the captives of thy raid.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!

My father’s wife is old and harsh with years,
And drudge of all my father’s house am I—­
My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears.
Come back to me.  Beloved, or I die!

A DEDICATION

And they were stronger hands than mine
That digged the Ruby from the earth—­
More cunning brains that made it worth
The large desire of a king,
And stouter hearts that through the brine
Went down the perfect Pearl to bring.

Lo, I have wrought in common clay
Rude figures of a rough-hewn race,
Since pearls strew not the market-place
In this my town of banishment,
Where with the shifting dust I play,
And eat the bread of discontent.

Yet is there life in that I make. 
O thou who knowest, turn and see—­
As thou hast power over me
So have I power over these,
Because I wrought them for thy sake,
And breathed in them mine agonies.

Small mirth was in the making—­now
I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay,
And, wearied, at thy feet I lay
My wares, ere I go forth to sell. 
The long bazar will praise, but thou—­
Heart of my heart—­have I done well?

MOTHER O’ MINE

If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

THE ONLY SON

She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew,
For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great grey paw came through. 
The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roof-beam,
And the Only Son lay down again and dreamed that he dreamed a dream. 
The last ash fell from the withered log with the click of a falling spark,
And the Only Son woke up again, and called across the dark:—­
’Now was I born of womankind and laid in a mother’s breast?