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Poem	A gaunt and hoary slab of stone I found in desert place, And wondered why it lay alone In that abandoned place. Said I: 'Maybe a Palace stood Where now the lizards crawl, With courts of musky quietude And turrets tall. Maybe where low the vultures wing 'Mid mosque and minaret, The proud pavilion of a King Was luminously set. 'Mid fairy fountains, alcoves dim, Upon a garnet throne He ruled,--and now all trace of him Is just this stone. Ah well, I've done with wandering, But from a blousy bar I see with drunk imagining A Palace like a star. I build it up from one grey stone With gardens hanging high, And dream . . . Long, long ere Babylon It's King was I.
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