Beyond the plains where mighty rivers flow
The City of my Hope lies eastward yet,
Like gold embraid, in blue enamel set,
There Cross and Crescent in the sunlight glow.
There ruby, green and turquoise, row on row,
Rise swelling dome and carven minaret,
Whose shadows, azure-shot or violet,
Trace strange devices on the spotless snow.
What if some day I held you warm and fast
At sunset, while we scoured the glittering drift
Behind three black Orlovian horses swift,
Till at the Saviour’s Gate, outside the wall,
My tangled present and your bitter past
Were dropped, like dreams at dawn beyond recall?