Fly to the desert, fly with me by Thomas Moore.

Song of Nourmahal

in “The Light of the Harem”.

Part 5 of 5.

The mask is off,—the charm is wrought,—
And Selim to his heart has caught,
In blushes, more than ever bright,
His Nourmahal, his Harem’s Light!
And well do vanished frowns enhance
The charm of every brightened glance;
And dearer seems each dawning smile
For having lost its light awhile;
And, happier now for all her sighs,
As on his arm her head reposes,
She whispers him, with laughing eyes,
“Remember, love, the Feast of Roses!”