AN EPISODE

By 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. )