by: Thomas Bailey Aldrich
MORE POEMS BY THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH
- n the draperies' purple gloom,
- In the gilded chamber she stands,
- I catch a glimpse of her bosom's bloom,
- And the white of her jewelled hands.
- Each wandering wind that blows
- By the lattice, seems to bear
- From her parted lips the scent of the rose,
- And the jasmine from her hair.
- Her dark-browed odalisques lean
- To the fountain's feathery rain,
- And a paroquet, by the broidered screen,
- Dangles its silvery chain.
- But pallid, luminous, cold,
- Like a phantom she fills the place,
- Sick to the heart, in that cage of gold,
- With her sumptuous disgrace!