Are sweeter than Balsora’s nightingales—
Whose songs of war can fire the Arab blood
Like war itself: who knows not Alimar?
Then asked the men: “O Poet, sing of Kubleh!”
And boys laid down the knives, half-burnished, saying:
“Tell us of Kubleh, whom we never saw—
Of wondrous Kubleh!” Closer flocked the group,
With eager eyes about the flickering fire,
While Alimar, beneath the Assyrian stars,
Sang to the listening Arabs: