Midnight Mood Poem by Ameen Rihani

There's one upon whose youthful breast I fain
would die :
my soul upon her lingering lips through mine
I'd pour
In torrents that would reach and thrill Love's
every shore —
In floods that drown the earth and rise to drown
the sky'.
But how can I ? Alas, the leaves must shield the
flower,
And silent see her proffering to the butterfly
Her cheeks, her honeyed lips, her soul, — O,
how can I ?
In all the worlds, to change my being, is there
no power ?
How oft I rise at night to probe the human laws,
My beating temples all my waking hours re-
cording !
And nor solution, nor repose my task afford-
ing.—
How oft my carnal silence cries for the bliss that
was !
The bliss that generous nature gives, that man
denies —
A bliss that's chained in idle words and damned
codes
And creeds and customs creeping in their dark
abodes —
The bliss that's lost within an endless maze of
lies.
Pray, tell me, must the North Wind blow and
sweep by rule ?
Must he the virgin ponds and springs and rills
avoid ?
See how the ocean, panting, rising, overjoyed,
Holds out her arms to him, — why not the limpid
pool?
And thou, O human Ocean, — would that I could
give
In equal measure, when beneath me thou art
parting !
O, generous, fiery soul, in love though I am
wanting.
My flesh, within thy passion's hearth, will glow
and live.
Thou art the twilight ; I'm the dawn ; yet we shall
meet
And flood the firmament with fire and rainbow-
beauty.
No unfed sun or moon shall rob us of our
booty.
And if the gods should frown, — is not rebellion
sweet ?
But ah, live Twilight ! why cannot the Dawn be
true?
Why? can't I quaff from thy sad lips, as thou,
from mine?
Why can't this heart, forgetting once, as well
be thine?
How can I my most holy passion tame, subdue?
That youthful breast, imprisoned, I see through
thine own ;
Those Eastern eyes cannot be bidden by thy
flame ;
That form, as I am in thine arms — O, do not
blame —
In mine I fancy, — let me die in shame alone !