Gold-vestured suns and silver-fretted nights O'er Algiers—Allah's sonnet in the tongue of France, Afric Paris, frenetic with the Marabout, A-pointed columns in the air, First languors of the East and fair With bright illusions, flecked enkindling sights, Mosques and kiosks—harlots thro' yakmak a-glance, Polyglot zig-zagging streets to turbaned rue! O Sensuous city! How subtly weird thy spell! Background, translucent sea of dreamland blue; Thy minarets in tapers to the sky; Bedouin inns and clanking dice, Cythereas, drab dancing girls to tice The dragomans, gendarmes and rake-hell; Thy turquoise noons to twilight bronze imbue Thro' architraves, thy villas laced to gardens high. Topaz yellowing to sunset crimsoning, Gilded muezzins call the prayer, Down-floating magic in the air O'er mosques nestled into moonlight silvering. Fair Southern Cross a-trembling, An irised mystic quivering To strange emotions soothing, A distant cry and droning, A castanet a-clanging Algiers!—inch' Allah!—sleeping! |