The Sinjib tree

I am the flowery Sinjib tree,The sweetest thing in the world,With silvery leaves on a rugged stemAnd golden bugs incurled.Oh, traveller, turn thy face to meEre ever thy tent be furled.

Bring here the maiden ot thy desireIn my scented shade to rest,And be she cold as bitterest snowOn Takht-i-Suliman's crest,Yet she shall open her arms to theeAnd entreat to be caressed.

And she shall crave for thy love and thee,Who was erst so coldly calm,For the subtle scents of my honeyed flowersShall soothe her like a charm,Till she shall long for a child of thineTo nestle within her arm.

For I am the Flower of Khorassan,The silvery Sinjib tree,And he who pitches his camp beneathShall dream of love and of me,As my scented breath steals through the tentTo enhance his ecstasy!