Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Under the Palms
By Frederick K. Crosby (1845–1874)P
As his own desert’s tiger brood,
And all my soul is lost in him!
What recked he then, my fierce Mahmoud,
Of turbaned Sheik or belted Khan,
When, ’neath the date-palm spreading wide,
With beating heart I saw him ride
Along the road to Toorkistan?
Ah me!
Beside his saddle-girth to be!
The whitening sand-leagues flame and glow;
At eve the oasis odors sweet
Across the darkening deserts blow.
Into Light, and Other Poems. Private!
But ne’er my hungry eyes may scan,
By garish day or evening-tide,
The war-troops of my hero ride
Along the road from Toorkistan.
Ah me!
The night-birds haunt the rustling tree!
The way-worn warriors journey slow;
Why is yon silent rider bent
Upon his horse’s saddle-bow?
Each eye is dim, each cheek is wan:
Why pale before your chieftain’s bride?
The ’broidered burnos falls aside—
’Tis he!
They bend their spear-points low to me!
Into Light, and Other Poems. Privately printed. 1876.