Ameen Rihani

“ Makes of thine amber locks a golden wreath.
Life flutters in thy hair as in mine eyes;
Death can not choke the breeze that whispers there
A word of hope; beneath my breath will rise
A hair with God eternity to share
The noon and eve of Life thou didst not see,
But in its Dawn thou didst anticipate
What jealous Night would not permit to be,
What pain and suffering never could abate.
Shall I strew on thee faded blossoms, Brother,
Or fiery buds consumed by their own flame,
Or myrrh and myrtle from our Mountain-mother,
Or golden rods that whispered oft thy name? ”

“ Their ashes out, up and into mine eyes, alas! the awful reaping.
No longer do I fear,
Nor see, nor feel, nor hear;
No longer am I near;
If thou wilt quench thy flame, kiss now the lips that were to thee so dear.
As well kiss thou the grass
On which I lay, alas!
Like me, thou too wilt pass;
One kiss will turn thy lips to ashes and one tear, thine eyes to glass.
Beneath this hemlock tree
A clod I leave to thee;
But over land and sea
My soul is rising, rising, rising, searching for the gods that be.
But gods have lived, and lied,
And loved, and fell, and died ”

“ In thy life as in thy death,
In thy heart as in thy breath,
On the earth as in the skies
Restless Motion never dies.
Always raging, always spinning,
Endless and without beginning.
Death, like me, is seeking Rest. ”