By marble balustrades
The purple peacocks gleam,
And palaces with white facades
Beside the river dream.
The sea is pale as milk,
For mast a peeled white rose,
A little ship with sails of silk
Moves out; where, no man knows.
Slim turrets of delight,
Of jade and ivory,
With tiny, twisting stairs of white,
Beckon bewitchingly.
Down flowery woodland ways,
Nude nymphs and sun-splashed fauns
Dance lightly where the syrinx plays
Along unshaven lawns.
Pale mosques and minarets
Of some lost Samarkand
Dream where the camel-driver sets
His face unto the sand.
Across the sunset sky
My soul has sped afar
To radiant realms, remote and high,
And found the first frail star.
A myriad sights I see
In this strange sunset-world,
Here, with my fancy floating free,
Each eager sail unfurled.
I shall come back to earth,
With all its fume and fret.
With all its foolish counts of worth --
But not, ah no! not yet!
A little longer here
To dream the hours away,
Where night -- dark flower without compeer --
Buds on the stalk of day!
First published in The Bulletin, 30 June 1927
