View of the Castle and City of Aleppo, Syria
An hour four minutes by horseback,
an hour four minutes to town;
on rural and pagan dirt roadways,
and then on the streets paved with stone.
Broad moat turned into a garden,
an old wall not little decayed,
in atrium bordered by cypress,
a cloister in which ages pray:
There lived the Star of Aleppo,
and she bloomed though seasons did change:
there was narcissus in winter,
and there grew the war that estranged.
I no longer go to Aleppo,
love flown from the bed it once stayed,
the root of my passion is buried
yet while the leaves are decayed.