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LXXXI

Hark, love, to the tambourines

Of the minstrels in the street,

And one voice that throbs and soars

Clear above the clashing time!

Some Egyptian royal love-lilt, 5

Some Sidonian refrain,

Vows of Paphos or of Tyre,

Mount against the silver sun.

Pleading, piercing, yet serene,

Vagrant in a foreign town, 10

From what passion was it born,

In what lost land over sea?