British Muslim Heritage > Poetry 
The Dirge We Dirging Dree
by Yahya-En-Nasr Parkinson

	A birth,
	A momentary dash,
	A blaze of sunshine,
	A cloud of melancholy,
	A parting gleam -
	Then death.

Like to drift of the drifting tide,
	To scud of the scudding sea,
To billows on the billowy wide,
	Is the dirge we dirging dree.

Like to lash of the lashing hail,
	The breath of the breathing sea,
To fiery dust when on dusty trail
	Streams of streaming star-shot flee.

Like to drone of the droning blast,
	The moan of the moaning bay,
To the shadow of shadows cast
	By beam of the beaming day.

Like to white of the whitest light,
	Deep scent of scented flowers,
To the black of the blackest night,
	Black musk of musky bowers.

Like to 'plash of the 'plashing stream,
	Red-gold on a golden hair,
To the fever of feverish dream,
	To balm in the balmy air.

To the break of the breaking wave,
	To wave of the waving tree,
To the still of the stilly grave,
	Is the dirge we dirging dree.

		(Kilwinning, Scotland.)