To Richard F. Burton, On His Translation of the Arabian Nights

Westward the sun sinks, grave and glad ; but far
 Eastward, with laughter and tempestuous tears,
 Cloud, rain, and splendour as of orient spears,
Keen as the sea's thrill toward a kindling star,
The sundawn breaks the barren twilight's bar
 And fires the mist and slays it. Years on years
 Vanish, but he that hearkens eastward hears
Bright music from the world where shadows are.

Where shadows are not shadows. Hand in hand
A man's word bids them rise and smile and stand
 And triumph. All that glorious orient glows
Defiant of the dusk. Our twilight land
 Trembles ; but all the heaven is all one rose,
 Whence laughing love dissolves her frosts and