PARABLE SONNETS. (2) - Druckversion +- Sonett-Forum (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum) +-- Forum: Sonett-Archiv (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=126) +--- Forum: Sonette aus germanischen Sprachen (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=394) +---- Forum: Englische Sonette (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=818) +----- Forum: Autoren UVW (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=847) +------ Forum: Watts-Dunton, Theodore (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1115) +------ Thema: PARABLE SONNETS. (2) (/showthread.php?tid=17490) |
PARABLE SONNETS. (2) - ZaunköniG - 28.10.2007 PARABLE SONNETS. [Among the Bedouins a father in enumerating his children never counts his daughters, for a daughter is considered a disgrace.] 1. ILYAS the prophet, lingering 'neath the moon, Heard from a tent a child's heart-withering wail, Mixt with the sorrow of the nightingale, And, entering, found, sunk in mysterious swoon, A little maiden dreaming there alone : She babbled of her father sitting pale 'Neath wings of Death 'mid sights of sorrow and bale And pleaded for his life in piteous tone. c Poor child, plead on,' the succouring prophet saith, While she, with eager lips, like one who tries To kiss a dream, stretches her arms and cries To Heaven for help ( Plead on ; such pure love-breath, Reaching the Throne, might stay the wings of Death That, in the Desert, fan thy father's eyes.' 2. THE drouth-slain camels lie on every hand ; Seven sons await the morning vultures' claws ; 'Mid empty water-skins and camel-maws The father sits, the last of all the band. He mutters, drowsing o'er the moonlit sand, Sleep fans my brow :"Sleep makes us all pashas" ; Or, if the wings are Death's, why Azraeel draws A childless father from an empty land.' Nay,' saith a Voice, the wind of Azraeel's wings A child's sweet breath hath stilled ; so God decrees ': A camel's bell comes tinkling on the breeze, Filling the Bedouin's brain with bubble of springs And scents of flowers and shadow of wavering trees Where, from a tent, a little maiden sings. |