Lost Delight

After the Hazara War

I lie alone beneath the Almond blossoms,

Where we two lay together in the spring,

And now, as then, the mountain snows are melting,

This year, as last, the water-courses sing.

That was another spring, and other flowers,

Hung, pink and fragile, on the leafless tree,

The land rejoiced in other running water,

And I rejoiced, because you were with me.

You, with your soft eyes, darkly lashed and shaded,

Your red lips like a living, laughing rose,

Your restless, amber limbs so lithe and slender

Now lost to me. Gone whither no man knows.

You lay beside me singing in the sunshine;

The rough, white fur, unloosened at the neck,

Showed the smooth skin, fair as the Almond blossoms,

On which the sun could find no flaw or fleck.

I lie alone, beneath the Almond flowers,

I hated them to touch you as they fell.

And now, who killed you? worse, Ah, worse, who loves you?

(My soul is burning as men burn in Hell.)

How I have sought you in the crowded cities!

I have been mad, they say, for many days.

I know not how I came here, to the valley,

What fate has led me, through what doubtful ways.

Somewhere I see my sword has done good service,

Some one I killed, who, smiling, used your name,

But in what country? Nay, I have forgotten,

All thought is shrivelled in my heart’s hot flame.

Where are you now, Delight, and where your beauty,

Your subtle curls, and laughing, changeful face?

Bound, bruised and naked (dear God, grant me patience),

And sold in Cabul in the market-place.

I asked of you of all men. Who could tell me?

Among so many captured, sold, or slain,

What fate was yours? (Ah, dear God, grant me patience,

My heart is burnt, is burnt, with fire and pain.)

Oh, lost Delight! my heart is almost breaking,

My sword is broken and my feet are sore,

The people look at me and say in passing,

“He will not leave the village any more.”

For as the evening falls, the fever rises,

With frantic thoughts careering through the brain,

Wild thoughts of you. (Ah, dear God, grant me patience,

My soul is hurt beyond all men call pain.)

I lie alone, beneath the Almond blossoms,

And see the white snow melting on the hills

Till Khorassan is gay with water-courses,

Glad with the tinkling sound of running rills,

And well I know that when the fragile petals

Fall softly, ere the first green leaves appear,

(Ah, for these last few days, God, grant me patience,)

Since Delight is not, I shall not be, here!

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Poems in English 

• Poor Mailie’s Elegy by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Poem on Sensibility by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Pegasus at Wanlockhead by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Paraphrase of the First Psalm by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• One Night as I did Wander by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On the late Captain Grose’s Peregrinations by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On the Death of Robert Dundas, Esq., of Arniston by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On the Death of John M’Leod, Esq. by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On the Birth of a Posthumous Child by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On Tam the Chapman by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On seeing Mrs. Kemble in Yarico by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On Scaring some Water-Fowl in Lock Turit by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On Glenriddell’s Fox breaking his chain: A Fragment by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On Elphinstone’s Translation of Martial’s Epigrams by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• On Chloris requesting a sprig of blossom’d thorn by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Oh Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Ode, Sacred to the Memory of Mrs. Oswald of Auchencruive by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Ode on the Departed Regency Bill by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Ode for General Washington’s Birthday by Robert Burns by Robert Burns
• Note to Mr. Renton of Lamerton by Robert Burns by Robert Burns

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