Thou to me art such a spring As the Arab seeks at eve, Thirsty from the shining sands; There to bathe his face and hands, While the sun is taking leave, And dewy sleep is a delicious thing. Thou to me art such a dream As he dreams upon the grass, While the bubbling coolness near Makes sweet music in his ear; And the stars that slowly pass In solitary grandeur o`er him gleam. Thou to me art such a dawn As the dawn whose ruddy kiss Wakes him to his darling steed; And again the desert speed, And again the desert bliss, Lightens thro` his veins, and he is gone!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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