Leagues, leagues of blinding sand
On either hand;
A pitiless, brazen sea
Far and away until it glimmers dim,
At the horizon’s rim.
A sinking caravan,
Camel and horse and man
Spent since the day began, -
And closing on their path,
The flame-tinged air that speaks the simoom’s wrath.
A sudden breath of balm!
The shadow of a palm
Against the sky; and then about their feet
The cool soft grasses meet;
And to their thirsting lips,
Sweeter than kisses which the Sultan sips
In the Rose Garden, when the bulbuls sing,
And moon and stars and love are listening,
The cold clear water from the well that drips.
‘Allah be praised! ’ the Arab drops his rein,
New life in every vein:
‘Allah be praised! ’ and bows him to the sod:
‘Lo, God is God! there is no God but God! ’