by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Along the narrow Moorish street
A blue-eyed soldier strode.
Veiled from her lashes to her feet
She stepped from her abode,
Now love may guard a favoured wife
Who leaves the harem door;
But hungry hearted is her life
When she is one of four.
If black eyes glow with sudden fire
And meet warm eyes of blue -
The old, old story of desire
Repeats itself anew.
When bugles blow the soldier flies -
Though bitter tears may fall
A Moorish child with blue, blue eyes
Plays in the harem hall.