No more; for on the rim of the globed world I seem to stand and stare at nothingness. But songs of unseen birds And tranquil roll of waves Bring sweet assurance of continuous life Beyond this silvery cloud. Fantastic dreams, Of tissue subtler still Than the wreathed fog, arise, And cheat my brain with airy vanishings And mystic glories of the world beyond. A whole enchanted town Thy baffling folds conceal-- An Orient town, with slender-steepled mosques, Turret from turret springing, dome from dome, Fretted with burning stones, And trellised with red gold. Through spacious streets, where running waters flow, Sun-screened by fruit-trees and the broad-leaved palm, Past the gay-decked bazaars, Walk turbaned, dark-eyed men. Hark! you can hear the many murmuring tongues, While loud the merchants vaunt their gorgeous wares. The sultry air is spiced With fragrance of rich gums, And through the lattice high in yon dead wall, See where, unveiled, an arch, young, dimpled face, Flushed like a musky peach, Peers down upon the mart! 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 twin 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! Well do I know deep in thine inmost folds, Within an opal hollow, there abides The lady of the mist, The Undine of the air-- A slender, winged, ethereal, lily form, Dove-eyed, with fair, free-floating, pearl-wreathed hair, In waving raiment swathed Of changing, irised hues. Where her feet, rosy as a shell, have grazed The freshened grass, a richer emerald glows: Into each flower-cup Her cool dews she distills.