Next to ye both I love the Palm,

With his leaves of beauty, his fruit of balm;

Next to ye both I love the Tree

Whose fluttering shadow wraps us three

With love, and silence, and mystery!

Our tribe is many, our poets vie

With any under the Arab sky;

Yet none can sing of the Palm but I.

The marble minarets that begem

Cairo’s citadel-diadem