WHEN the breeze of a joyful dawn blew free In the silken sail of infancy, The tide of time flow'd back with me, 10 Anight my shallop, rustling thro' The low and bloomed foliage, drove By garden porches on the brim, In sooth it was a goodly time, Often, where clear-stemm'd platans guard The boat-head down a broad canal A motion from the river won Ridged the smooth level, bearing on I enter'd, from the clearer light, 20 30 Imprisoning sweets, which, as they clomb 40 Of hollow boughs. A goodly time, For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid. |