And indolent, gaping mouths,

Or jested with our captors,

Until we left the busier thoroughfares,

And walked through groves of cypress and of ilex,

Where not a sound or rumour troubled

The silence of the dark-plumed boughs

And glimmering deeps of peace,

Save only the cool spurt of waters

That, from a myriad unseen jets,

Fretted the crystal airs of morning,

And fell in frolic showers

Of twinkling, rainbow drops,

That plashed in unseen basins;

And through the blaze of almond-orchards,

Tremulous with blossom

That flickered in a rosy, silken snow

Of falling petals over us,

And wreathed about our feet

In soft and scented drifts;

Beneath pomegranate trees in young, green leaf,

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