Her mouth a redder rose than Omar knew;
Her eyes, dark pools where stars could shine by day;
These were no dream. And yet,—
“How long ago,”
I asked her, “did the bitter sea withdraw
Its foam from all your happy sun-burnt hills?”
She looked at me in fear. Then, with a smile,
She answered, “Nothing here has ever changed.
My father’s father, in his childhood, played
Among these vines. That oak-tree where you stand