Classic Poem

Lamp , fitly rendered at her shrine
Whose soul so oft hath lighted mine,
I would Aladdin's spell were thine.
Not that thou shouldst enact the part
Alluring to the vulgar heart;
Raise in an hour a sumptuous dome
For her who seeks a simple home;
Heap gold unwelcome on the spot
Where only it is valued not;
Deck with the grace of pearl and gem
The grace that hath no need of them;
But by thy power that bridged might be
The weltering waste of weary sea,
O'erleapt the desert's searing space;
That instantaneous thou might'st place
The wanderer frail where Ganges laves
The palm whose fellowship she craves;
And when her foot forgot to roam,
O better far! might'st bear her home.

Yet, though the Efreet now no more
Speed at thy bidding as of yore,
Spirit more exquisite may be
Swayed by a subtler sorcery.
When the fierce days desired decline
Kindles thy brilliance vespertine,
And the pure beam, thy quivering soul,
Simple yet ample, floods her scroll,
Tell her who keep remote and fain
Vigil beside the flickering twain
Of Earth's dim lamps that dimmest be;
Fond Hope and pallid Memory.