 | Hagar |  |
A DREAM OF DAMASCUS.
I walk 'neath the holy blueOf thy beautiful skies, O June!
And feel like a bird that sings
'Mid the purple clover's bloom.
I breathe in the scented breath
Exhaled from a thousand flowers,
And dream as the dreamers may
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I gaze in the rose's heart,
Far down in each tinted fold,
And the wondrous dreams return
That gladdened my heart of old.
I pass o'er the desert sands
A-weary and travel-sore;
And peerless city, thou dawn'st
On my raptured gaze once more;
As the thoughts of gushing springs,
Of wild boughs waving free,
To the fever-bowed, thou comest,
O city! in dreams to me.
'Mid masses of deepest shade
I see thy minarets gleam;
And sweet is the music made
By the rush of thy mountain stream.
I wander in gardens rare,
Where thickets of roses bloom,
Thro' tangled vines, where fountains leap
Like light thro' the dusky gloom.
O, the rose's flush had paled,
And faint has its perfume grown;
The vision fades with the rose's flush,
And the beauty my soul has known.
But still 'neath the holy blue
Of thy beautiful skies, O June!
I feel like a bird that sings
'Mid the purple clover's bloom.
| Hagar | |