Clouds scattered largesses of rain;
The sounding cities, rich and warm,
Smouldered and glittered in the plain.
“Sometimes it was a wandering wind,
Sometimes the fragrance of the pine,
Sometimes the thought how others sinned
That turned her sweet blood into wine.
“Sometimes she heard a serenade
Complaining sweetly, far away:
She said, ‘A young man wooes a maid;