OMAR OUT OF DATE
BY A RENEGADE DISCIPLE
Wake! for Reveillée scatters into flight
The flagging Rearguard of a ruined Night,
And hark! the meagre Champion of the Roost
Has flung a matins to the Throne of Light.
Here, while the first beam smites the sullen Sky,
With silent feet Hajâm comes stealing nigh,
Bearing the Brush, the Vessel, and the Blade,
These sallow cheeks of mine to scarify.
How often, oh, how often have I sworn
Myself myself to shave th' ensuing Morn!
And then—and then comes Guest-night, and Hajâm
Appears unbidden, and is gladly borne.
Come, fill the Cup! The nerve-restoring Ti
Shall woo me with the Leaf of far Bohi;
What matter that to some the Koko makes
Appeal, to some the Cingalese Kofi?
For in a minute Toil, that ever thrives,
Awaits me with her Shackles and her Gyves,
And ever crieth Folly in the streets:
'To work! for needs ye must when Shaitân drives.'
Alas! that I did yesternight disport
With certain fellows of the baser Sort,
Unheedful of the living consequence
When Drinks are long, and Pockets all too short!
With them the game of Poka did I play,
And in wild session turned the Night to Day;
And many a Chip I dropped upon the Board,
And many a Moistener poured upon the Clay.