Here waiting rode a giant _dhow_, Each hand a captive _Roumi_ lord, Who rose despite his chains to bow As straight her beauty went aboard, Sailed. For the Tableland of Rhyme? The Crystal Archipelago? Who knows! This happened on a time Among the times of long ago. He only, Dreamer-of-the-Age, Was left alone upon the sands, The goal of his long pilgrimage, The soil of all the promised lands, Watching the _dhow_ cut like a sword The leaden waves. Yet, ere she sailed, God poured on broken eyes reward Out of Heaven's heart. The Queen unveiled. There for a space fulfilment shone, While worship had his soul for priest And altar. Then the light was gone, And on the sea the singing ceased. * * * * * And is this all my story? Yes, Save that the _Sufi's_ dream is true. Dearest, in its deep lowliness This tale is told of me and you. O love of mine, while I have breath, Whatever my last fate shall be, I seek you, you alone, till death With all my life--from sea to sea. And God be merciful to me. I THE VIEW OF THE WATCHMEN The pilgrims from the north Beat on the southern gate All eager to set forth, In little mood to wait While watchman Abdelal Expounded the Koran To that wise seneschal, His mate, Ghaffír Sultan. At length Ghaffír: "Enough!" Even watchmen's heads may nod. "Asräil is not rough If we have faith in God." His fellow tapped the book: The _Darawish_ discuss The point you overlook: Has Allah faith in us? Know, then, that Allah, fresh And splendid as a boy Who thinks no ill of flesh, Had one desire: a toy. And so he took for site To build his perfect plan The Earth, where His delight Was manufactured: Man. Ah, had we ever seen The draft, our Maker's spit, I think we must have been Drawn to live up to it. God was so pure and kind He showed Shaitan the lease Of earth that He had signed For us, His masterpiece. The pilgrims cried: "You flout Our calm. Beware. It flags. Unbar and let us out, Sons of a thousand rags." And Abdelal said: "Hark! Methought I heard a din." Said Ghaffír: "After dark I let no devils in. "Proceed." He sucked his pipe: God in His happiest mood Laid down our prototype, And saw that man was good. Aglow with generous pride: "Shaitan the son of Jann, This is my crown," He cried. "Bow down and worship man." Said Evil with a smirk-- He was too sly to hiss-- "I cannot praise your work. I could have bettered this." God said: "I could have sown The soil my puppet delves, Yet rather gave my own Power to perfect themselves."