Page:The Improvisatrice.pdf/28

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Shook the date-trees each tufted head, As the passing wind their green nuts shed; And, like dark columns, amid the sky The giant palms ascended on high: And the mosque’s gilded minaret Glistened and glanced as the daylight set. Over the town a crimson haze Gathered and hung of the evening’s rays; And far beyond, like molten gold, The burning sands of the desert rolled. Far to the left, the sky and sea Mingled their gray immensity; And with flapping sail and idle prow The vessels threw their shades below Far down the beach, where a cypress grove Casts its shade round a little cove,