A Palestine Idyll.

From out Beth Dagon's shade her svelte form swayed;
Balanced her head a jar of cool well-water:
Graceful and tall, she was a lissom maid,
This Plain of Sharon rose, this Canaanitish daughter.
Her dark eyes dwelt on mine, sublime and still;
I were not human had I felt no thrill.
And thus she glided, mid the golden rays
Of morning, to some vineyard or bazaar;
Her little feet scarce touched the dusty ways,
Her gaze was fixed on Judah's hills afar.
And then her hand she daintily did reach,
And, like a greedy "Gyppo", moaned "Baksheesh".

Palestine. "Ephraim Flaxstick".