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48
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ARABIAN NIGHTS.
I.
When the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free
In the silken sail of infancy,
The tide of time flowed back with me
The forwardflowing tide of time;
And many a sheeny summermorn,
Adown the Tigris I was borne,
By Bagdat's shrines of fretted gold,
Highwalléd gardens green and old;
True Mussulman was I and sworn,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
When the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free
In the silken sail of infancy,
The tide of time flowed back with me
The forwardflowing tide of time;
And many a sheeny summermorn,
Adown the Tigris I was borne,
By Bagdat's shrines of fretted gold,
Highwalléd gardens green and old;
True Mussulman was I and sworn,
For it was in the golden prime
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
