Select poems of Alfred lord Tennyson . ghtFrom twisted silvers lookd to shameThe hollow-vaulted dark, and streamdUpon the mooned domes aloofIn inmost Bagdat, till there seemdHundreds of crescents on the roof Of night new-risen, that marvellous time, 130 To celebrate the golden primeOf good Haroun Alraschid. Then stole I up, and trancedly Gazed on the Persian girl alone, Serene with argent-lidded eyes Amorous, and lashes like to rays Of darkness, and a brow of pearl Tressed with redolent ebony. In many a dark delicious curl, Flowing beneath her rose-hued zone \ 140 The sweetest lady of the time
Select poems of Alfred lord Tennyson . ghtFrom twisted silvers lookd to shameThe hollow-vaulted dark, and streamdUpon the mooned domes aloofIn inmost Bagdat, till there seemdHundreds of crescents on the roof Of night new-risen, that marvellous time, 130 To celebrate the golden primeOf good Haroun Alraschid. Then stole I up, and trancedly Gazed on the Persian girl alone, Serene with argent-lidded eyes Amorous, and lashes like to rays Of darkness, and a brow of pearl Tressed with redolent ebony. In many a dark delicious curl, Flowing beneath her rose-hued zone \ 140 The sweetest lady of the time, Well worthy of the golden primeOf good Haroun Alraschid. i6 THE POET. Six columns, three on either side,Pure silver, underpropt a richThrone of the massive ore, from whichDown droopd in many a floating fold,Engarlanded and diaperdWith inwrought flowers, a cloth of , his deep eye laughter-stirrdWith merriment of kingly pride,Sole star of all that place and time,I saw him — in his golden Good Haroun Alraschid !. THE POET. The poet in a golden clime was bom, With golden stars above ;Dowerd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,The love of love. THE POET. 17 He saw thro life and death, thro good and ill, He saw thro his own marvel of the everlasting will,An open scroll. Before him lay : with echoing feet he threaded The secretest walks of fame : 10 The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headedAnd wingd with flame, Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue. And of so fierce a flight,From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung,Filling with light And vagrant melodies the winds which bore Them earthward till they lit;Then, like the arrow-seeds of the field flower, The fruitful wit 20 Cleaving took root, and springing forth anew Whereer they fell, behold,Like to the mother plant in semblance, grewA flower all gold, And bravely furnishd all abroad to fling The winged shafts of throng with stately blooms the breathing springOf Hope and Youth.
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