I Thought it was Tangiers I Wanted

I know now / That Notre Dame is in Paris.

And the Seine is more to me now / Than a wriggling line on a map / Or a name in travel stories.

I know now / There is a Crystal Palace in Antwerp / Where a hundred women sell their naked bodies, / And the night-lovers of sailors / Wait for men on docks in Genoa.

I know now / That a great golden moon / Like a picture-book moon / Really rises behind palm groves / In Africa, / And tom-toms do beat / In village squares under the mango trees.

I know now / That Venice is a church dome / And a net-work of canals, / Tangiers a whiteness under sun.

I thought / It was Tangiers I wanted, / Or the gargoyles of Notre Dame, / Or the Crystal Palace in Antwerp, / Or the golden palm-grove moon in Africa, / Or a church dome and a net-work of canals.

Happiness lies nowhere, / Some old fool said, / If not within oneself.

It's a sure thing / Notre Dame is in Paris --

But I thought it was Tangiers I wanted.