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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ARABIAN NIGHTS: DATES, by ANONYMOUS
First Line: We grow to the sound of the wind
Last Line: Shall hear us murmur ever above his sleep
Subject(s): Date Trees;death; "dead, The;
First Line: We grow to the sound of the wind
Last Line: Shall hear us murmur ever above his sleep
Subject(s): Date Trees;death; "dead, The;
WE grow to the sound of the wind
Playing his flutes in our hair,
Palm tree daughters,
Brown flesh Bedouin,
Fed with light
By our gold father;
We are loved of the free-tented,
The sons of space, the hall-forgetters,
The wide handed, the bright-sworded
Masters of horses.
Who has rested in the shade of our palms
Shall hear us murmur ever above his sleep.
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