d lent you her youth
Sleeps where beneath the wind the long grass blows?
Alone, My Polish Rose, I die, like you.
Beside your grave a while pray let me rest
With other wanderers at some grief's behest.
The tongue of Poland by your grave rings true.
High-hearted, now a young boy past it goes,
Of you it is he sings, My Polish Rose.
THE GRAVES OF THE HAREM
They sleep well here whom Allah loved and kept
And treasured in his vineyard fair and fine,
Most lustrous of the Orient pearls that shine,
Which youth found where the waves of passion swept.
Here, where in peace perpetual they have slept,
A turban beckons where the roses twine,
A banner flutters out in silken line,
And sometimes here a Giaour's name is kept.
Oh! roses of this paradise of old,
The eyes that loved not Allah saw you not,
Nor arms that prayed not eastward could enfold!
But now a Christian treads this hallowed sp
Cara Devon has always suffered curiosity and im... Read more
When the economic downturn ends Matty Cruz’s co... Read more
A telekinetic teenager. A telepathic child. A p... Read more
A century after an apocalyptic war reduces all... Read more
The list of books below is based on the weekly downloads by our users regardless of eReader device or file format.
See more popular titles from this genre.