Request

   Give me your self one hour; I do not crave
     For any love, or even thought, of me.
   Come, as a Sultan may caress a slave
     And then forget for ever, utterly.

   Come! as west winds, that passing, cool and wet,
     O'er desert places, leave them fields in flower
   And all my life, for I shall not forget,
     Will keep the fragrance of that perfect hour!

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...