THE PERSIAN CARPET
The Carpet rustled at my feet; I looked and all the flowers were true; Their leaves were stirred, their scent was sweet, And on the breeze this murmur blew: “They wove me in an Eastern land, Two generations passed their day Upon my web, until each hand Was feeble, and their beards were grey. “At last my close-packed web was done. My price has bought the heirs such gold That they can idle in the sun, And laugh and feast till they are old.” And then the Carpet sighed: “Alack, For that small booth beside the sea! To have those golden babies back, And grandsire Hassan stitching me! “In vain; for stranger feet must tread Upon my dreams of Eastern day. I only ask that I be spread— Oh, Allah, hear!—where children play.” JANET BEGBIE. From quiet homes and first beginning, Out to the undiscovered ends, There’s nothing worth the wear of winning Save laughter and the love of friends. —Rupert Brooke.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/SUNAK19270518.2.190.16
Bibliographic details
Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 47, 18 May 1927, Page 14
Word Count
165THE PERSIAN CARPET Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 47, 18 May 1927, Page 14
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