Oh, I am lonely by a desert palm,
And dreaming, dreaming on the sands of thought
Oh, come to me from out the voiceless calm,
And teach me what the Nile has left untaught.
Bring to me a draught of Southern wine,
The perfume of the near-forgotten rose.
Then let me drink beside some ancient shrine,
And drinking, let my tired eyelids close.
Come near to me. The fast night-hours are few,
For every hour is fast when moons are clear.
Scatter from my hair the desert dew,
And lilt sweet Arab love-songs in my ear.
Unloose the twilight hair about thy head,
And listen to the waters deep and slow
For we are dreaming with the dreaming dead,
Dreaming where the flowers of Isis blow.
Look not to where those eagles fiercely fight,
Let peace alone be on the ancient bed.
Unbare thy beauty to the Egypt night,
And stay with me till Egypt’s dawn in red.
Then leave me when the bird of night has flown,
And touch my lips before the night-moon sinks.
I’ll ponder by these pyramids of stone,
And sit within the shadow of the Sphinx.
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Comments about this poem (Dreamlight by Leon Gellert )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Vikram G. Aarella
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
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