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Hamooda holds a feast to-night —
Fill ye the lamps with fragrant light ;
Burn, in the twilight's dewy time,
The mastic, rosemary, and thyme;
And scatter round the festal chamber
Oils from the rose, the musk, the amber.
And bind ye wreaths to hang the room,
The red pomegranate just in bloom,
The tulip, with the purple glow,
That hides the burning heart below ;
The crimson rose beside the pale,
And the white jasmin, faint and frail.
Fling ye the silken curtains wide,
With gold restrained — with scarlet dyed.
And let the colours wander o'er
The polished walls — the snowy floor.
The painted glass has hues to vie
With morning's dew or evening's sky.
White are the walls, but o'er them wind
Rich patterns curiously designed.
The Koran's sentences of light,
Where azure, gold, and red unite ;
And like their mirrors, fountains play
To lull and cool the burning day.
See the sherbets be cool with snows,
Flavoured with lemon and with rose ;
High in pearl baskets pile the grape
So that no purple bloom escape.
Bring ye the sweetmeats, and serve up
The coffee in a golden cup.
Call in the music, hours are long
Unspeeded by the dance and song.
Prepare the fairest slaves, whose eyes
Are stars to light our human skies.
Gather scents, songs, tales, smiles, and light,
The Bey Hamooda feasts to-night.
(The palace, built by Hamooda Pasha, is a magnificent specimen of Moorish architecture.)
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"Interior of a Moorish Palace" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 27 Oct. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/44742/interior-of-a-moorish-palace>.