Your presence like a benison to me
  Wakes my sick soul to dreamful ecstasy,
I fancy that some old Arabian night
  Saw you my houri and my heart's delight.

And wandering forth beneath the passionate moon,
  Your love-strung zither and my soul in tune,
We knew the joy, the haunting of the pain
  That like a flame thrills through me now again.

To-night we sit where sweet the spice winds blow,
  A wind the northland lacks and ne'er shall know,
With clasped hands and spirits all aglow
  As in Arabia in the long ago.