she brought to an end her tale, and fleeted and left us lone.
So gone is Umaimah, gone! and leaves here a heart in pain:
my life was to yearn for her; and now its delight is fled.
She won me, whenas, shamefaced--no maid to let fall her veil,
no wanton to glance behind--she walked forth with steady tread;
Her eyes seek the ground, as though they looked for a thing lost there;
she turns not to left or right--her answer is brief and low.
She rises before day dawns to carry her supper forth
to wives who have need--dear alms, when such gifts are few enow!
Afar from the voice of blame, her tent stands for all to see,