If I Were Lord Of Tartary, Myself And Me Alone, My Bed Should Be Of Ivory, Of Beaten Gold My Throne; And In My Court Should Peacocks Flaunt, And In My Forests Tigers Haunt, And In My Pools Great Fishes Slant Their Fins Athwart The Sun. If I Were Lord Of Tartary, Trumpeters Every Day To All My Meals Should Summon Me, And In My Courtyards Bray; And In The Evenings Lamps Should Shine, Yellow As Honey, Red As Wine, While Harp, And Flute, And Mandoline, Made Music Sweet And Gay. If I Were Lord Of Tartary, I'd Wear A Robe Of Beads, White, And Gold, And Green They'd Be - And Small, And Thick As Seeds; And Ere Should Wane The Morning-Star, I'd Don My Robe And Scimitar, And Zebras Seven Should Draw My Car Through Tartary'S Dark Glades. Lord Of The Fruits Of Tartary, Her Rivers Silver-Pale! Lord Of The Hills Of Tartary, Glen, Thicket, Wood, And Dale! Her Flashing Stars, Her Scented Breeze, Her Trembling Lakes, Like Foamless Seas, Her Bird-Delighting Citron-Trees In Every Purple Vale!