Yes;—the lotos-like leaves of the lettuce;
Late lily and lingering lute.
Then come—let us fly from the city!
Let us travel in orient isles—
In the purple of orient isles—
Oh, bear me—yes, bear me in pity
To climes where a sun ever smiles—
Ever smoothly and speciously smiles!
Where the swarth-browed Arabian's wild ditty
Enhances pyramidal piles: