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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.  The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes.  1917.
 
Reminiscence
By Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836–1907)
 
THOUGH I am native to this frozen zone
  That half the twelvemonth torpid lies, or dead;
  Though the cold azure arching overhead
And the Atlantic’s never-ending moan
Are mine by heritage, I must have known        5
  Life otherwhere in epochs long since fled;
  For in my veins some Orient blood is red,
And through my thought are lotus blossoms blown.
I do remember … it was just at dusk,
  Near a walled garden at the river’s turn,        10
    (A thousand summers seem but yesterday!)
A Nubian girl, more sweet than Khoorja musk,
  Came to the water-tank to fill her urn,
    And with the urn she bore my heart away!
 
 
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