Oriental Romance

I     Beyond lost seas of summer she     Dwelt on an island of the sea,     Last scion of that dynasty,     Queen of a race forgotten long. -     With eyes of light and lips of song,     From seaward groves of blowing lemon,     She called me in her native tongue,     Low-leaned on some rich robe of Yemen. II     I was a king. Three moons we drove     Across green gulfs, the crimson clove     And cassia spiced, to claim her love.     Packed was my barque with gums and gold;     Rich fabrics; sandalwood, grown old     With odor; gems; and pearls of Oman, -     Than her white breasts less white and cold; -     And myrrh, less fragrant than this woman. III     From Bassora I came. We saw     Her eagle castle on a claw     Of soaring precipice, o'erawe     The surge and thunder of the spray.     Like some great opal, far away     It shone, with battlement and spire,     Wherefrom, with wild aroma, day     Blew splintered lights of sapphirine fire. IV     Lamenting caverns dark, that keep     Sonorous echoes of the deep,     Led upward to her castle steep....     Fair as the moon, whose light is shed     In Ramadan, was she, who led     My love unto her island bowers,     To find her.... lying young and dead     Among her maidens and her flowers.