Asia at Nijni-Novgorod

GIVE me a melon of Khiva,

  Luscious and round and yellow,—

It ’s mate for the Lord of China

  Hardly so fair and mellow,—

And place on the tray beside it,

  Worthy of sheikh or khan,

Peaches that grew in the gardens

  Of the golden Zerefshan.

And a cup of Flowery Pekoe,—

  Tea of the mandarins,—

Gathered in dewy morning,

  Just when the spring begins.

Keep for the peasant and Tartar

  The bowls of the dark Bohea

Plucked when the heats of summer

  With rank leaves load the tree.

Ah, what ravishing flavors!

  Not the wine of the Rhine,

Not of Tokay, nor the nectar

  Won from the Cyprian vine,

Nor Sicily’s oranges rarest,

  Nor sweetest figs of Dalmatia,

Rival the flowery Pekoe

  And the spicy melons of Asia!