Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way, Where all was waste and silent yesterday? This City of War which, in a few short hours, Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers Of Him who, in the twinkling of a star, Built the high pillared halls of CHILMINAR, Had conjur'd up, far as the eye can see, This world of tents and domes and sunbright armory:-- Princely pavilions screened by many a fold Of crimson cloth and topt with balls of gold:-- Steeds with their housings of rich silver spun, Their chains and poitrels glittering in the sun; nd camels tufted o'er with Yemen's shells Shaking in every breeze their light-toned bells! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CUSTER'S LAST CHARGE [JUNE 25, 1876] by FREDERICK WHITTAKER THIS I REMEMBER by ELISABETH CHANNING ALLEN YOUTH AND AGE by GEORGE ARNOLD TRANSITION by MIRIAM BARRANGER A SUPERSTITION REVISITED by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE IDLERS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE DREAMER by HUGH FRANCIS BLUNT |