Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/185

From her dark, ringleted and bird-poised head
She hath cast back the milk-white silken veil :
Midst the blank blackness there
She blossoms like a rose.

Beckons she not with those bright, full-orbed eyes,
And open arms that like tvrin moonbeams gleam ?
Behold her smile on me
With honeyed, scarlet lips !

Divine Scheherazade ! I am thine.
I come ! I come ! Hark ! from some far-off mosque
The shrill muezzin calls
The hour of silent prayer,

And from the lattice he hath scared my love.
The lattice vanisheth itself the street,
The mart, the Orient town ;
Only through still, soft air

That cry is yet prolonged. I wake to hear
The distant fog-horn peal : before mine eyes
Stands the white wall of mist,
Blending with vaporous skies.

Elusive gossamer, impervious
Even to the mighty sun-god s keen red shafts !
With what a jealous art
Thy secret thou dost guard !