Home » Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Vol. 83: January, 1925 by Forgotten Books
Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Vol. 83: January, 1925 Forgotten Books

Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Vol. 83: January, 1925

Forgotten Books

Published September 27th 2015
ISBN : 9781331432562
Paperback
508 pages
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 About the Book 

Excerpt from Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Vol. 83: January, 1925Rivers of blood have fed the violets blueAnd azure skies have stormed and fed the thunderAnd virtue parted souls in love asunderAnd all enchantments have proved blessingsMoreExcerpt from Overland Monthly and Out West Magazine, Vol. 83: January, 1925Rivers of blood have fed the violets blueAnd azure skies have stormed and fed the thunderAnd virtue parted souls in love asunderAnd all enchantments have proved blessings too.Out of her window leaned Scheherazade-She leaned her cheek upon her slender hand.Upon it rubies clusteredAnd diamonds were mustered,Snatched from the bruised hearts of many a land.A sunset hour she sat and watched the sandAnd ruminated on a tale to tell her lord.Memry and fancy played this game with her,And yet the prize was only life in death.I can hold lust in check with magic words,Her thin, hot lips then uttered, Lust for bloodOf ladies beautiful and innocent of allSave charm, and their charms fail where mine succeeds, -My lord in thrall to weak Scheherazade.A thousand mornings had she found release,Only to dread the coming on of night.Night-time brought rest to others,But she must rouse her mothersWit. Kneel before Schahriar and earn the rightTo tell another tale- see one more day the light.Some of those fair and fated maids shed knownWhom Schahriar had called Sultana once.They had been lovely, yielding, tender, kind.With gorgeous robes and jeweled hair were decked.They had laid all the traps to charm, entice -In vain- the sword, the Sultans rival, ravished all.She came with art that conquers conquerors,And built a bridge oer peril of winged wordsAnd with a weightless ransom won a days release.A thousand nights had come with treacherous dark,And leaving twilight cool to Schahriars glaring hall,A gay procession wound.While drums and tabors soundAnd cymbols clash is heard, her footsteps fall,As firm, as soft. Yet, as she waits the call,Her heart beats wildly - Oh, to leave it all!Oh, to be back in Cashmeres peaceful vale,To see again the rosebuds, hear the birds,A thoughtless child within her fathers house,Before that stormy night in March - a thousand years(So seemed the thousand nights) ago when life began.Scheherazade, enter! heralds blared.Like a gold river she swept in to him -And found the hall a place of treacherous dark.Lights, lights, my lord, then cried Scheherazade,I tell not tales in darkness to a king.What is this gloomy jest?Lady, I stand confessed.He knelt amidst the torches glimmering.I meet defeat. Your magic conquering.I think no more of how your blood would stainCrimson the marble dais of the throne-The vintage of your mind is redder wine,I drink it at your bounty in that landWhere I am subject and you reign supreme.Tis strange to me - the kingdom of the mind.You have a certain wisdom of the heart.The mistress of such golden qualitiesIs the kings joy for aye, Scheherazade.She cast her golden robe and stood in rose.Then Schahriar came toward her in surprise-And you are beautiful,As well as dutiful.A thousand days, and you were true, my prize.The nightingales chaunt from the rose doth rise.He bent to lift her veil and kiss her lips.She raised her slender hand. My mind, she said,Rules rose and gold. I pray you spare me notFor beauty. That will fade. Into his faceThere came a look not seen there once before.It told that love had conquered love of power.Sultana, all in all I am your slave,And I would give you throne and crown and heart.I love you, dear, my queen of gold and rose.There stood a gay pavilion in the gardenDecked with all hues- furnished with all delights.Around it trees were singing,And roses perfume flinging.Here can Scheherazad forget those nights.She and her lord now gaze upon these sights-They pace together in the gardens close,And in