LIII
You took my fingers—thus—and bent them back,
Slowly, then one by one, giving to each
Some special love-name from your Spanish speech—
“Muy cariñoso,”—sadly said—Alack!
Plucked them as petals from your passion’s track,
Stripped bare the trembling flower-heart to beseech
The red, red rose your lips leaned low to reach
Unto my palm—the fingers thus bent back.
You said: “Now close your hand, quick! quick, Dear One!
I’ve sealed upon it there in Moorish guise
The rose-tree seal of Allah’s Paradise;
Should I be ever where you’re not, Dear One,
Like Life’s tree which by sacred Tesnim grew,
This rose shall bud and blossom—shelter you!”