Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PALACES OF ARABY!, by CATHERINE ANNE WARFIELD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PALACES OF ARABY!, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The palaces of araby! How beautiful they were
Last Line: In thee alone we find no trace, no wreck, of other years.
Alternate Author Name(s): Warfield, Catherine M.


THE Palaces of Araby! how beautiful they were,
Rearing their golden pinnacles unto the sunny air,
'Mid fragrant groves of spice, and balm, and waving orange trees,
And clear-toned fountains sparkling up to kiss the passing breeze.

The Palaces of Araby! oh, still there is a dream,
A vision, on my brain of all, as long extinct and dim;
They rise upon my fancy yet, vast, beautiful and grand,
As in past centuries they stood through all that radiant land.

The Palaces of Araby! pale forms of marble mould
Were ranged in every stately hall, white, glittering and cold;
And urns of massive crystal bright stood on each marble floor,
Where odours of a thousand lands burn'd brightly evermore.

The Palaces of Araby! vast mirrors, shrined in gold,
Gave back from every lofty wall splendour a thousand fold;
And the gleaming of uncounted gems, and the blaze of odorous light,
Stream'd down from every fretted dome, magnificently bright.

I see them now, "so fancy deems," those bright Arabian girls,
Binding, with glittering gems and flowers, their dark and flowing curls,
Or sweeping, with their long, rich robes, throughout those marble halls,
Or holding, in their rose-clad bowers, gay, gorgeous festivals.

I see them now, "so fancy deems," those warriors high and bold,
Draining their draughts of ruby wine from cups of massive gold,
Or dashing on their battle steeds, like meteors, to the war,
With the dazzling gleam of helm and shield and jewelled scimitar.

That dream hath fled, that pageant pass'd -- unreal things and vain,
Why rise ye up so vividly, so brightly, to my brain?
The desert hath no palaces, the sands no fountain stream,
And the brave and beautiful are frail and shadowy as my dream.

The Palaces of Araby! oh, there is not a stone
To mark the splendour and the pride, for ever crushed and gone;
The lonely traveller hears no more the sound of harp and lute,
And the fountain voices, glad and clear, for evermore are mute.

Lost Araby! lost Araby! the world's extinguish'd light,
Thou liest dark and desolate, a thing of shame and blight;
Rome hath her lofty ruins yet -- Greece smiles amid her tears,
In thee alone we find no trace, no wreck, of other years.





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