(_An English Version of an old Turkish Lyric._)
The tinkling sound of the camel's bell
Comes softly across the sand,
And the nightingale by the garden well
Still warbles his saraband,
But the night goes by and the dawn-winds blow
From the glimmering East and the Hills of Snow,
And I wait, sweetheart, I wait alone,
For a smile from thee, my own!
Awake! e'er the gong of the muezzin
Peals forth for another day;
E'er its loveless, barren toil begin
But a smile from you I pray!
But a smile from your soul-enslaving eyes,—
As brightly dark as the midnight skies,—
But a smile, I pray! Awake! sweetheart,
Awake! my own, my own!