Persian Serenade
Gena Branscombe
Sara E. Branscombe
G. Schirmer

Breath of jasmine, balm of heart's-ease,
Greets my Princess fair
As she walks in love's own garden,
Star-gems in her hair.
Here I watch through the rose-leaves,
Will she come this way?
If she passes, shall I follow,
Or her steps delay?

Mirza, Queen of roses!
Love, ere I die of longing!
Sun of flame, my Princesss!
Soul of my heart's desire!

She would see my devotion,
If she turned her eyes;
All the love and all the longing
In my heart that lies,
Will the shadow of its meaning
Lighten her dear face?
Touch the brow that bears serenely
Every queenly grace?

Mirza, Queen of roses!, etc.

Kindly stars at last have seen,
listened to my praying,
Now beside the babul-tree
She is sweetly straying;
There she waits to hear
All my fond beseeching,
Life's most joyous lesson
Love at last is teaching.

Mirza, Queen of roses!, etc.