FLORAL CEHE MONIES. 133 



We seek the cooling fountain, 



Alas ! we seek in vain ; 

 The cloud that crowns the mountain 



Melts not away in rain. 

 The stream is shrunk, which through our plain 



Once glided bright and clear ; 

 Oh ! ope the secret springs again 



Allah! Father ! hear ! 



We bring thee flowers, sweet flowers, 



All withered in their prime ; 

 No moisture glistens on their leaves, 



They sickened ere their time. 

 And we, like them, shall pass away, 



Ere wintry days are near ; 

 Shouldst thou not hearken as we pray 



Allah ! Father ! hear 1 



