I LAY i' the bosom of the sun, Under the roses dappled and dun. I thought of the Sultan Gingerbeer, In his palace beside the Bendemeer, With his Afghan guards and his eunuchs blind, And the harem that stretched for a league behind. The tulips bent i' the summer breeze, Under the broad chrysanthemum-trees And the minstrel, playing his culverin, Made for mine ears a merry din. If I were the Sultan, and he were I, Here i' the grass he should loafing lie, And I should bestride my zebra steed, And ride to the hunt of the centipede: While the pet of the harem, Dandeline, Should fill me a crystal bucket of wine, And the kislar aga, Up-to-Snuff, Should wipe my mouth when I sighed, "Enough!" And the gay court poet, Fearfulbore, Should sit in the hall when the hunt was o'er, And chant me songs of silvery tone, Not from Hafiz, but -- mine own! Ah, wee sweet love, beside me here, I am not the Sultan Gingerbeer, Nor you the odalisque Dandeline, Yet I am yourn, and you are mine! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT AT THE CLOSED GATE OF JUSTICE by JAMES DAVID CORROTHERS THE SAD SONG, FR. THE CAPTAIN by JOHN FLETCHER FIDELITY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH AMERICAN THEMES FOR A GILBERT by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SARGENT'S PORTRAIT OF EDWIN BOOTH AT THE PLAYERS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |