Welcome squalid vesture, harsh voice, hateful face!
God is soul, souls I and thou: with souls should souls have place.
II. THE MELON-SELLER
Going his rounds one day in Ispahan,—
Halfway on Dervishhood, not wholly there,—
Ferishtah, as he crossed a certain bridge,
Came startled on a well-remembered face.
"Can it be? What, turned melon-seller—thou?
Clad in such sordid garb, thy seat yon step
Where dogs brush by thee and express contempt?