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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386644" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Arabesque</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">On a background of pale gold<br>I would trace with quaint design,<br>Penciled fine,<br>Brilliant-colored, Moorish scenes,<br>Mosques and crescents, pages, queens,<br>Line on line,<br>That the prose-world of to-day<br>Might the gorgeous Past's array<br>Once behold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the magic painted shield<br>Rich Granada's Vega green<br>Should be seen;<br>Crystal fountains, coolness flinging,<br>Hanging gardens' skyward springing<br>Emerald sheen;<br>Ruddy when the daylight falls,<br>Crowned Alhambra's beetling walls<br>Stand revealed;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Balconies that overbrow<br>Field and city, vale and stream.<br>In a dream<br>Lulled the drowsy landscape basks;<br>Mark the gleam<br>Silvery of each white-swathed peak!<br>Mountain-airs caress the cheek,<br>Fresh from the snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here in Lindaraxa's bower<br>The immortal roses bloom;<br>In the room<br>Lion-guarded, marble-paven,<br>Still the fountain leaps to heaven.<br>But the doom<br>Of the banned and stricken race<br>Overshadows every place,<br>Every hour.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where fair Lindaraxa dwelt<br>Flits the bat on velvet wings;<br>Mute the strings<br>Of the broken mandoline;<br>The Pavilion of the Queen<br>Widely flings<br>Vacant windows to the night;<br>Moonbeams kiss the floor with light<br>Where she knelt.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through these halls that people stepped<br>Who through darkling centuries<br>Held the keys<br>Of all wisdom, truth, and art,<br>In a Paradise apart,<br>Lapped in ease,<br>Sagely pondering deathless themes,<br>While, befooled with monkish dreams,<br>Europe slept.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Where shall they be found today?<br>Yonder hill that frets the sky<br>'The last Sigh<br>Of the Moor' is named still.<br>There the ill-starred Boabdil<br>Bade good-by<br>To Granada and to Spain,<br>Where the Crescent ne'er again<br>Holdeth sway.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vanished like the wind that blows,<br>Whither shall we seek their trace<br>On earth's face?<br>The gigantic wheel of fate,<br>Crushing all things soon or late,<br>Now a race,<br>Now a single life o'erruns,<br>Now a universe of suns,<br>Now a rose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emma+Lazarus">Emma Lazarus</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386644" data-title="Arabesque de Emma Lazarus" data-description="On a background of pale gold
I would trace with quaint design,
Penciled fine,
Brilliant-colored, Moorish scenes,
Mosques and crescents, pages, queens,
Line on line,
That the prose-world of to-day
Might the gorgeous Past's array
Once behold.

On th..."></div>
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