Poems of Experience/An Episode

Along the narrow Moorish street A blue-eyed soldier strode. (Ah, well-a-day) Veiled from her lashes to her feet She stepped from her abode, (Ah, lack-a-day).

Now love may guard a favoured wife Who leaves the harem door; (Ah, well-a-day) But hungry hearted is her life When she is one of four. (Ah, lack-a-day.)

If black eyes glow with sudden fire And meet warm eyes of blue - (Ah, well-a-day). The old, old story of desire Repeats itself anew. (Ah, lack-a-day.)

When bugles blow the soldier flies - Though bitter tears may fall (Ah, lack-a-day). A Moorish child with blue, blue eyes Plays in the harem hall. (Ah, well-a-day.)