Lit2Go

Your presence like a benison to me
Wakes my sick soul to dreamful ecstasy,
I fancy that some old Arabian night
Saw you my houri and my heart’s delight.

And wandering forth beneath the passionate moon,
Your love–strung zither and my soul in tune,
We knew the joy, the haunting of the pain
That like a flame thrills through me now again.

To–night we sit where sweet the spice winds blow,
A wind the northland lacks and ne’er shall know,
With clasped hands and spirits all aglow
As in Arabia in the long ago.