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Walter de la Mare - Arabia
Work rating: Medium

Far are the shades of Arabia, 
Where the Princes ride at noon, 
`Mid the verdurous vales and thickets, 
Under the ghost of the moon; 
And so dark is that vaulted purple 
Flowers in the forest rise 
And toss into blossom `gainst the phantom stars 
Pale in the noonday skies. 

Sweet is the music of Arabia 
In my heart, when out of dreams 
I still in the thin clear mirk of dawn 
Descry her gliding streams; 
Hear her strange lutes on the green banks 
Ring loud with the grief and delight 
Of the dim-silked, dark-haired Musicians 
In the brooding silence of night. 

They haunt me — her lutes and her forests; 
No beauty on earth I see 
But shadowed with that dream recalls 
Her loveliness to me: 
Still eyes look coldly upon me, 
Cold voices whisper and say — 
`He is crazed with the spell of far Arabia, 
They have stolen his wits away.`
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