'Mid the verdurous vales and thickets
Under the ghost of the moon;
And so dark is that vaulted purple,
Flowers in the forest rise
And toss into blossom 'gainst the phantom stars,
Pale in the noonday skies.
Sweet is the music of Arabia
In my heart, when out of dreams
I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn
Descry her gliding streams;