She went out singing, and the poppies still
Crowd round her door awaiting her return;
She went out dancing, and the doleful rill
Lingers beneath her walls her news to learn.
Their love is but a seed of what she has sown;
Their grief is but a shadow of my own.
O Tomb, O Tomb! did Zahra’s beauty fade,
Or dost thou still preserve it in thy gloom?
O Tomb, thou art nor firmament nor glade,
Yet in thee shines the moon and lilies bloom.