Daughter of Zion; Ghazal

Like the hart, my tongue heaves for you,
Beulah, my Daughter of Zion.

The water brooks are dry, I am
Thirsty, oh Daughter of Zion.

Thy walls are pleasant; Thy Fair City
Pleasure; come---Daughter of Zion.

I am nigh wasting poverty
Heavenly, Daughter of Zion.

Let this Broomtree be written in
Thy streets, Thou Daughter of Zion.