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The Golden Treasury

of the best songs and lyrical poems in the English Language

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 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
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 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
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 XX. 
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 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
XXXVII ZULEIKA
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XI. 
 XLI. 
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 LXX. 
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 LXXIX. 
 LXXX. 
 LXXXI. 
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 LXXXIV. 
 LXXXV. 
 LXXXVI. 
 LXXXVII. 
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 LXXXIX. 
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 CXXX. 
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 CXXXVI. 
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 CLXX. 
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 CLXXVI. 
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 CLXXIX. 
 CLXXX. 
 CLXXXI. 
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 CXC. 

XXXVII
ZULEIKA

Zuleika is fled away,
Though your bolts and your bars were strong;
A minstrel came to the gate to-day
And stole her away with a song.
His song was subtle and sweet,
It made her young heart beat,
It gave a thrill to her faint heart's will,
And wings to her weary feet.
Zuleika was not for ye,
Though your laws and your threats were hard;
The minstrel came from beyond the sea,
And took her in spite of your guard:

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His ladder of song was slight,
But it reach'd to her window height;
Each verse so frail was the silken rail
From which her soul took flight.
The minstrel was fair and young;
His heart was of love and fire;
His song was such as you ne'er have sung,
And only love could inspire:
He sang of the singing trees,
And the passionate sighing seas,
And the lovely land of his minstrel band;
And with many a song like these
He drew her forth to the distant wood,
Where bird and flower were gay,
And in silent joy each green tree stood;
And with singing along the way,
He drew her to where each bird
Repeated his magic word,
And there seem'd a spell she could not tell
In every sound she heard.
And singing and singing still,
He lured her away so far,
Past so many a wood and valley and hill,
That now, would you know where they are?
In a bark on a silver stream,
As fair as you see in a dream;
Lo! the bark glides along to the minstrel's song,
While the smooth waves ripple and gleam.
And soon they will reach the shore
Of that land whereof he sings,
And love and song will be evermore
The precious, the only things;
They will live and have long delight
They two in each other's sight,
In the violet vale of the nightingale,
And the flower that blooms by night.
A. O'Shaughnessy