An Episode
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Jump to navigationJump to searchby Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Along the narrow Moorish street
A blue-eyed soldier strode.
(Ah, well-a-day)
Veiled from her lashes to her feet
She stepped from her abode,
(Ah, lack-a-day).
Now love may guard a favoured wife
Who leaves the harem door;
(Ah, well-a-day)
But hungry hearted is her life
When she is one of four.
(Ah, lack-a-day.)
If black eyes glow with sudden fire
And meet warm eyes of blue -
(Ah, well-a-day).
The old, old story of desire
Repeats itself anew.
(Ah, lack-a-day.)
When bugles blow the soldier flies -
Though bitter tears may fall
(Ah, lack-a-day).
A Moorish child with blue, blue eyes
Plays in the harem hall.
(Ah, well-a-day.)
| from Poems of Experience by Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1917) | |
| Be not attached | The Voice of the Voiceless 
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