So, after bath, the slave girls brought
The precious raiment for her wear,
The misty izar from Mosul,
The pearls and opals for her hair,
The slippers for her little feet,
(Two radiant crescent moons they were,)
And lavender, and spikenard sweet,
And attars, nedd, and heavy musk.
When they had finished dressing her,
(The Eye of Morn, the Heart's Desire,)
Like one pale star against the dusk,
A single diamond on her brow
Trembled with its imprisoned fire!