IN the draperies' purple gloom, In the gilded chamber she stands, I catch a glimpse of her bosom's bloom, And the white of her jewelled hands. Each wandering wind that blows By the lattice, seems to bear From her parted lips the scent of the rose, And the jasmine from her hair. Her dark-browed odalisques lean To the fountain's feathery rain, And a paroquet, by the broidered screen, Dangles its silvery chain. But pallid, luminous, cold, Like a phantom she fills the place, Sick to the heart, in that cage of gold, With her sumptuous disgrace! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOUNTAIN FASTNESS by HAYDEN CARRUTH ENVOYS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOMESDAY BOOK: AT NICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LETTERS TO DEAD IMAGISTS by CARL SANDBURG SLANTS AT BUFFALO, NEW YORK by CARL SANDBURG ELEGY: THE GHOST WHOSE LIPS WERE WARM; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL |