Swarmed thick to see the vision pass

On broidered camels like a fleet

Of swaying silence. One there was

Who joined the strangers in the street.

They called him Dreamer-of-the-Age,

The least of Allah's Muslimeen

Who knew the joys of pilgrimage

And wore the sign of sacred green,

A poet, poor and wistful-eyed.

Him all the beauty and the song