Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Antar, the Arabian Negro Warrior, Poet and Hero

A Fair Lady 
'Twas then her beauties first enslaved my heart — 
Those glittering pearls and ruby lips, whose kiss 
Was sweeter far than honey to the taste. 
As when the merchant opes a precious box 
Of perfume, such an odor from her breath 
Comes toward me, harbinger of her approach; 
Or like an untouched meadow, where the rain 
Hath fallen freshly on the fragrant herbs 
That carpet all its pure untrodden soil: 
A meadow where the fragrant rain-drops fall 
Like coins of silver in the quiet pools. 
And irrigate it with perpetual streams; 
A meadow where the sportive insects himi, 
Like listless topers singing o'er their cups. 
And ply their forelegs like a man who tries 
With maimed hands to use the flint and steel. 

Author: Stafford, A. O.
Volume: 1
Publisher: The Journal of Negro History
Language: English
Book contributor: JSTOR

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