The Imam's cry in Ghazna
Has died upon the air,
And day's great life begins to throng
Each stately street and square.
The loose-robed turban'd merchants--
The fur-clad mountaineers--
The chiefs' brocaded elephants--
The Kurdmans' group of spears--
Grave men beneath the awning
Of every gay bazar
Ranging their costly merchandise,
Shawl, gem, and glittering jar--
The outworn files arriving
Of some vast Caravan,
With dusky men and camels tall,
Before the crowded khan;--
All that fills kingly cities
With traffic, wealth, and din,
Resounds, imperial Ghazna,
This morn thy walls within.