Beside the lakelet, with its modest dome,
Peeps forth between the trees a pillared mosque;
And there the wandring fakeer finds a home,
And chants the nuzzum from the high kiosk:
He feeds the lamp with palm-nut's fragrant oil,
A lonely star upon the brow of night,
And plucks the fairy offsprings of the soil,
To crown with votive wreaths the altar's height.
Nature's luxuriant and lavish hand,
Forest and hill, steep cliff, and tangled wild,
With rich profusion o'er the sunny land,
A countless tribe of brilliant flowers has piled.
Upon the sandy plain fair lilies spring;
And mid the jungle, buds of rain-bow dyes
To the spiced gale their balmy perfume fling,
Or lift their towering garlands to the skies.
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