When the floating sun has set,
And the silver splendor falls
Of the moon on harem walls,
Hear the bangles clashing chime—
While feet flit in dreamy rhyme.
Dark eyes flashing in the dusk
Luring scents of spice and musk,
White roofs ’neath a gen-set sky,
Floating songs from the dim serai.
Through the years I hear you yet.
Through the years of toil and fret.