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 Nor watch the liquid moonlight gleam Among the temples white, And realise that lovely dream, We call an Eastern night.

Though I, impatient of the heat, Forth from the window lean To cool my sight across the street Amidst your shaded green, Your leaves, refreshed by summer showers, Are naught to me, who feast My fancy on those other flowers That burn about the East.

For I have seen the Lotus bloom On lakes like inland seas, And white Magnolias, through the gloom, Moonlike among the trees. Have watched the pale Tuberose, aglow With phosphorescent light, And Water-lilies lying low On sacred tanks at night.

Have wandered where the Moghra flowers Exhale their scent at noon, And dreamt sweet dreams where Jasmin bowers Grow white beneath the moon. Have seen the Poppies' crimson wave O'erflow the land for miles And Roses, on an Eastern grave Turn even Death to smiles.

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