Of the stern Caliph’s will—
A loosened bow-string from the bow untied.
Laughter was changed to wail,
And all the happy song in silence died
On lips grown mute and pale.
Death’s sudden summons! Still the flowers fair
Proffered their cups of bloom;
Still rose the mazy fountain in the air,
Scattering its soft perfume;
But in one moment, though these bright things stayed,