Rippled o'er with light. Nubians they, from out
The chosen tribes of Darfur. They had known
The mighty silences, the livid sun,
And those tall, welcome palm trees by the spring.
And some in goblets bore the priceless wines
Of old Messenia and Ocana's stream.
Fair were the goblets, carved with chrysoprase,
Others of jacinth or carnelian red.
So that twain feasted there on curious dainties
Brought from far Clissa and Nowanagar,
And new-found lands, and the Messenian wine
Laughed all aglow through the white jacinth, wreathed
With opal stones.
And there she watched the great
Heroie arch of Creon's breast, and he
How her lips smiled less often than they seemed,
Wondering ever at the littlest curve.
Then dancing girls, with measured steps, moved through
The hall, clothed in light fluttering veils that each
Cost a year's labor far in Dehra Dun.
Beyond the Indus, past the Ganges stream,
Old women wrought them far in Dehra Dun.
And round the dark hair of the dancing girls
Lay ropes of pearls, and jeweled sandals flashed
Upon their feet. Then one high flute blew out
And the quick lyres made chorus with the sound
In trembling rhythm, whereto the dancers moved
In the dance of dawn. First all the motions slow
As shadows that swing down an eastern range,
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