(For ever hallowed be the ground!)
And sceptics mock the lowly mound
And say, ‘He’s now of no Ahkound!’
(His soul is in the skies!)
The azure skies that bend above his loved
Metropolis of Swat
He sees with larger, other eyes,
Athwart all earthly mysteries—
He knows what’s Swat.
Let Swat bury the great Ahkoond