Lilatu Laili

At night on the radiant Rialto,
  By the stars in their houses of glass,
I strolled with my soul in my pocket
  And prayed that my night might not pass;
I have seen ’neath the high heels of Beauty
  My heart and my soul and my shame;
That form! O, how often it lured me,
  And how often I lost in the game!

And how often I walked in the shadow
  Of a Laila a mile and a mile!
But the rapture and bliss of a vision
  Would end in a great gush of bile.
To the hints that her garment would whisper
  I have listened but I would not dare;
I have seen every one of my fancies
  Retreat in the dark of her hair.

I have wished that each building around us
  Was a cedar, a poplar, a pine;
That the men and the women were statues,
  And the rain that was falling was wine;
That the lights were ethereal flowers;
  That the cars were the nooks in the wood⁠—

“O, enough!” she exclaimed as she kissed me,
  “This attic and couch are as good.”