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Weird Tales

MARCH, 1943

A Vase from Araby


SHAPED like a tear-drop, pale as haze
Down where the mirage-cities stand,
Here is a blue enamel vase
Brought overseas from the fabled land.
Stoppered with turquoise, scribed around
With golden symbols that curve and flow
Like a guardian serpent, the flask is bound
In some secret spell of the long ago.
If curious fingers should break the seal
What would be found in its narrow hold:
Poisons to murder, or herbs to heal?
Attar of roses, or dust of gold?
Beware!... In a cloud as black as shame
Amazed eyes might see a Form appear,
With furious wings and hair of flame....
The Djinni for ages imprisoned here!