Page:Al Aaraaf (1933).djvu/50

 To lone lake that smiles, In its dream of deep rest, At the many star-isles That enjewel its breast – Where wild flowers, creeping, Have mingled their shade, On its margin is sleeping Full many a maid – Some have left the cool glade, and Have slept with the bee – Arouse them, my maiden, On moorland and lea – Go! breathe on their slumber, All softly in ear, Thy musical number They slumbered to hear For what can awaken An angel so soon,