In lone, wild beauty drest.
To thee a welcome breathing o’er the tide,
The genii groves of Araby shall pour;
Waves that enfold the pearl shall bathe thy side,
On the old Indian shore.
Oft shall the shadow of the palm-tree lie
O’er glassy bays wherein thy sails are furl’d,
And its leaves whisper, as the winds sweep by,
Tales of the elder world.
Oft shall the burning stars of southern skies,