Poem of the day

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich (1836-1907

Though I am native to this frozen zone
⁠   That half the twelvemonth torpid lies, or dead;
⁠   Though the cold azure arching overhead
⁠And the Atlantic’s intermittent moan
Are mine by heritage, I must have known
⁠   Life otherwhere in epochs long since fled;
⁠   For in my veins some Orient blood is red,
⁠And through my thought are lotus blossoms blown.
I do remember … it was just at dusk,
⁠   Near a walled garden at the river’s turn
⁠      (A thousand summers seem but yesterday!),
A Nubian girl, more sweet than Khoorja musk,
⁠   Came to the water-tank to fill her urn,
⁠      And, with the urn, she bore my heart away!

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