Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1839.pdf/29

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In the midst a fountain, Singeth day and night, Each small wave a mirror For the changing light. Now the golden sunshine, Softened by the boughs, Which a doubtful passage To the light allows: Or the moon seems lingering near, As she paused the words to hear Of the tales Arabian, The old Arabian Nights.

On the wind a murmur Seems to float along, Soft as is the music Of remembered song. Bringing at the moment All that dwelt apart In the lone recesses Of the haunted heart. So upon her twilight wings Memory beareth graceful things From the tales Arabian, From the old Arabian Nights.

I can see the garden Treasured from the day, Where the young Aladdin Took his wondering way. Pale the lamp was burning Which the genie swayed; Would that at this moment I could have its aid! All my fancies, now so vain, I might with a wish obtain; From the tales Arabian, The old Arabian Nights.