Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/185

Rh From her dark, ringleted and bird-poised head She hath cast back the milk-white silken veil : Midst the blank blackness there She blossoms like a rose. Beckons she not with those bright, full-orbed eyes, And open arms that like tvrin moonbeams gleam ? Behold her smile on me With honeyed, scarlet lips ! Divine Scheherazade ! I am thine. I come ! I come ! Hark ! from some far-off mosque The shrill muezzin calls The hour of silent prayer, And from the lattice he hath scared my love. The lattice vanisheth itself the street, The mart, the Orient town ; Only through still, soft air That cry is yet prolonged. I wake to hear The distant fog-horn peal : before mine eyes Stands the white wall of mist, Blending with vaporous skies. Elusive gossamer, impervious Even to the mighty sun-god s keen red shafts ! With what a jealous art Thy secret thou dost guard !