poem index

sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox

About this Poem 

From Ballads and Songs (London: Cassell and Company, 1896).

 

The Ghazul, or Oriental Love-Song

  THE ROCKS.

I was a timid little antelope;
  My home was in the rocks, the lonely rocks.

  I saw the hunters scouring on the plain;
  I lived among the rocks, the lonely rocks.

  I was a-thirsty in the summer-heat;
  I ventured to the tents beneath the rocks.

  Zuleikah brought me water from the well;
  Since then I have been faithless to the rocks.

  I saw her face reflected in the well;
  Her camels since have marched into the rocks.

  I look to see her image in the well;
  I only see my eyes, my own sad eyes.
  My mother is alone among the rocks.

This poem is in the public domain. 

This poem is in the public domain. 

William Makepeace Thackeray

William Makepeace Thackeray, born July 18, 1811, was an English writer best known for his novels, particularly The History of Henry Esmond, Esq. (The Mershon Company Publishers, 1852) and Vanity Fair (Bradbury and Evans, 1848). While in school, Thackeray began writing poems, which he published in a number of magazines, chiefly Fraser and Punch. He died on December 24, 1863.

by this poet

poem
  Yonder to the kiosk, beside the creek,
  Paddle the swift caque.
  Thou brawny oarsman with the sunburnt cheek,
  Quick! for it soothes my heart to hear the Bulbul speak.

  Ferry me quickly to the Asian shores,
  Swift bending to your oars.
  Beneath the melancholy sycamores,
  Hark! what a ravishing note the
poem
  When moonlike ore the hazure seas
    In soft effulgence swells,
  When silver jews and balmy breaze
    Bend down the Lily's bells;
  When calm and deap, the rosy sleep
    Has lapt your soal in dreems,
  R Hangeline! R lady mine!
    Dost thou remember Jeames?

  I mark thee in the Marble All,
    Where
poem
  Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill,
  And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill,
  Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot
  As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot—
  In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass,
  And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass