COLOUR

A blue-black Nubian plucking oranges

At Jaffa by a sea of malachite

In red tarboosh, green sash, and flowing white

Burnous — among the shadowy memories

That haunt me yet by these bleak northern seas

He lives for ever in my eyes’ delight,

Bizarre, superb in young immortal might —

A god of old barbaric mysteries.

Maybe he lived a life of lies and lust:

Maybe his bones are now but scattered dust

Yet, for a moment he was life supreme

Exultant and unchallenged: and my rhyme

Would set him safely out of reach of time

In that old heaven where things are what they seem.