Charles E. Horn
Mrs. Crawford
Firth & Hall

My Arab maid, the desert's flow'r,
O'er Minaret and Moslem Tow'r
I watch the same bright star arise
That meets the gaze of those sweet eyes,
Oh how my inmost soul was rent
When call'd to join the warriors' tent
We parted at the midnight hour,
My own dear maid, the desert's flow'r.

For thee from this fond bosom rise
A thousand pray'rs, a thousand sighs
For thee the tear in silence flows
My stag-eyed fair
My gulshen rose
In thoughts by day in dreams by night
I see thee oft, My soul's delight
And own thy beauty's gentle power
My own dear maid, the desert's flower.