(To E. H. P.)
Melik the Sultán, tired and wan,
Nodded at noon on his diván.
Beside the fountain lingered near
JAMÍL the bard, and the vizier--
Old YÚSUF, sour and hard to please;
Then JAMÍL sang, in words like these.
_Slim is Butheina--slim is she
As boughs of the Aráka tree!_
"Nay," quoth the other, teeth between,
"Lean, if you will,--I call her lean."
_Sweet is Butheina--sweet as wine,
With smiles that like red bubbles shine!_
"True,--by the Prophet!" YÚSUF said,
"She makes men wander in the head!"
_Dear is Butheina--ah! more dear
Than all the maidens of Kashmeer!_
"Dear," came the answer, quick as thought,
"Dear ... and yet always to be bought."
So JAMÍL ceased. But still Life's page
Shows diverse unto YOUTH and AGE:
And,--be the song of Ghouls or Gods,--
TIME, like the Sultán, sits ... and nods.