LIST, list, my Zuleima;
One word to me speak,
As I strike the sweet chords
Of the dulcet caique.
The prowling narghileh
Has gone to his lair,
While the songs of the yashmak
Float soft on the air.
Oh, speak to thine Azim!
All nature is still,
Save the notes of the sheik,
And the yataghan's trill;
The scent of the efreet
Floats soft on the breeze
As it sighs through the leaves
Read more in News
The Yale and Second Regiment Games.