Your presence like a benison to me
Wakes my sick soul to dreamful
ecstasy,
I fancy that some old Arabian night
Saw you my houri and my heart’s delight.

And wanderin forth beneath the passionate
moon,
Your love-strung zither and my soul in
tune,
We knew the joy, the haunting of the pain
That like a flame thrills through me now
again.

To-night we sit where sweet the spice winds
blow,
A wind the northland lacks and ne’er shall
know,
With clasped hands and spirits all aglow
As in Arabia in the long ago.

Previous         Next