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From “The Light of the Harem”
WHO has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere, | |
| With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave, | |
| Its temples, and grottoes, and fountains as clear | |
| As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave? | |
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| O, to see it at sunset,—when warm o’er the lake | 5 |
| Its splendor at parting a summer eve throws, | |
| Like a bride, full of blushes, when lingering to take | |
| A last look of her mirror at night ere she goes!— | |
| When the shrines through the foliage are gleaming half shown, | |
| And each hallows the hour by some rites of its own. | 10 |
| Here the music of prayer from a minaret swells, | |
| Here the Magian his urn full of perfume is swinging, | |
| And here, at the altar, a zone of sweet bells | |
| Round the waist of some fair Indian dancer is ringing. | |
| Or to see it by moonlight,—when mellowly shines | 15 |
| The light o’er its palaces, gardens, and shrines; | |
| When the waterfalls gleam like a quick fall of stars, | |
| And the nightingale’s hymn from the Isle of Chenars | |
| Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet | |
| From the cool shining walks where the young people meet. | 20 |
| Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes | |
| A new wonder each minute as slowly it breaks, | |
| Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth every one | |
| Out of darkness, as they were just born of the sun; | |
| When the spirit of fragrance is up with the day, | 25 |
| From his harem of night-flowers stealing away; | |
| And the wind, full of wantonness, wooes like a lover | |
| The young aspen-trees till they tremble all over; | |
| When the east is as warm as the light of first hopes, | |
| And day, with its banner of radiance unfurled, | 30 |
| Shines in through the mountainous portal that opes, | |
| Sublime, from that valley of bliss to the world! | |
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