| THE hunchèd camels of the night | |
| Trouble the bright | |
| And silver waters of the moon. | |
| The Maiden of the Morn will soon | |
| Through Heaven stray and sing, | 5 |
| Star gathering. | |
| |
| Now while the dark about our loves is strewn, | |
| Light of my dark, blood of my heart, O come! | |
| And night will catch her breath up, and be dumb. | |
| |
| Leave thy father, leave thy mother | 10 |
| And thy brother; | |
| Leave the black tents of thy tribe apart! | |
| Am I not thy father and thy brother, | |
| And thy mother? | |
| And thou—what needest with thy tribe's black tents | 15 |
| Who hast the red pavilion of my heart? | |