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Rh

wav'd not thro' an Eastern sky, Beside a fount of Araby; It was not fann'd by southern breeze In some green isle of Indian seas, Nor did its graceful shadow sleep O'er stream of Afric, lone and deep.

But fair the exil'd Palm-tree grew Midst foliage of no kindred hue; Thro' the laburnum's dropping gold Rose the light shaft of orient mould, And Europe's violets, faintly sweet, Purpled the moss-beds at its feet.