IN THE HAREM.
Reading edition
WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE
BY R. H. STODDARD.
The scent of burning sandal-wood Perfumes the air in vain; A sweeter odor fills my sense, A fiercer fire my brain! O press your burning lips to mine!— For mine will never part, Until my heart has rifled all The sweetness of your heart! The lutes are playing on the lawn, The moon is shining bright, But we like stars are melting now In clouds of soft delight!