. . .He heard her story and married the brave girl who had dared so much for his love. Then he brought her to England and had her taught and trained, and she found favour at Court, and their lives were happy.

Such the Afghan woman can be. The love which she gets—and gives—echoes in the poetry of Lawrence Hope.

“You are all that is lovely and light, Aziza,—whom I adore, And, waking after the night, I am weary with dreams of you. Every nerve in my heart is tense and sore As I rise to another morning apart from you. I would burn for a thousand days, Aziza, whom I adore, Be tortured, slain, in unheard of ways If you pitied the pain I bore. … Give me your love for a day, A night, an hour; If the wages of sin are death, I am willing to pay. What is my life but a breath Of passion burning away? Away from an unplucked flower? Oh! Aziza, whom I adore, Aziza, my one delight, Only one night—I will die before day, And . . . Read More