Song Of The Devoted Slave

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

There is one God: Mahomed his Prophet. Had I his power

I would take the topmost peaks of the snow-clad Himalayas,

And would range them around your dwelling, during the heats of summer,

To cool the airs that fan your serene and delicate presence,

Had I the power.

Your courtyard should ever be filled with the fleetest of camels

Laden with inlaid armour, jewels and trappings for horses,

Ripe dates from Egypt, and spices and musk from Arabia.

And the sacred waters of Zem-Zem well, transported thither,

Should bubble and flow in your chamber, to bathe the delicate

Slender and wayworn feet of my Lord, returning from travel,

Had I the power.

Fine woven silk, from the further East, should conceal your beauty,

Clinging around you in amorous folds; caressive, silken,

Beautiful long-lashed, sweet-voiced Persian boys should, kneeling, serve you,

And the floor beneath your sandalled feet should be smooth and golden,

Had I the power.

And if ever your clear and stately thoughts should turn to women,

Kings’ daughters, maidens, should be appointed to your caresses,

That the youth and the strength of my Lord might never be wasted

In light or sterile love; but enrich the world with his children.

Had I the power.

Whilst I should sit in the outer court of the Water Palace

To await the time when you went forth, for Pleasure or Warfare,

Descending the stairs rose crowned, or armed and arrayed in purple,–

To mark the place where your steps have fallen, and kiss the footprints,

Had I the power.

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• Earthy Anecdote by Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens
• A Dish Of Peaches In Russia by Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens
• Depression Before Spring by Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens
• A Clear Day And No Memories by Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens
• In The Carolinas by Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens
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• Anecdote Of Canna by Wallace Stevens by Wallace Stevens
• You Felons on Trial in Courts. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Yet, Yet, Ye Downcast Hours. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Years of the Modern. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Year that Trembled. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• Year of Meteors, 1859 ’60. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• World, Take Good Notice. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• World Below the Brine, The. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
• With Antecedents. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
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• Whoever You are, Holding Me now in Hand. by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
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• Who is now Reading This? by Walt Whitman by Walt Whitman
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