University of Virginia Library

THE VOICE OF EARTH.

The Caliph Omar came one summer day
Where one of the great House of Ommeyeh
Was to be borne within the sepulcher,
And, straight commanding not a man should stir,
Went down among the tombs with a loud cry,
And left them wondering there. An hour passed by,
And his attendants waited. Then he came,
Like one whose head is bowed with grief or shame.
Red were his eyes with tears he could not check,
And the great veins were swollen on his neck.
“Commander of the Faithful,” then they said,
“What has so long detained you with the dead?”
“I sought their tombs who dearest were,” said he,
“Saluted all, but none saluted me.
I turned my back upon them to depart,
And from the Earth a voice that smote my heart
Cried out: ‘Omar, why dost not ask of me
Where are the arms, that they salute not thee?’
‘What is become of them?’ And Earth replied:
‘The bands that tied them once have been untied.
The hand, the wrist, the arm, the shoulder-blade,
All now are separated, all decayed.’
Turning my back in terror to depart,
Again the dreadful voice that shook my heart.
Earth called to me once more: ‘Omar, Omar!
Why dost not ask me where the bodies are?’
‘What is become of them?’ And Earth replied:
‘What once were bodies lie on every side.
The shoulders parted from the ribs, and they
From the backbone, the hip bones dropped away,
The two thigh bones, the knees, the legs, the feet,
All have departed, never more to meet.’
I turned me for the third time to depart.
Again the same dark voice that crushed my heart:
‘Attend to me, Omar. Hast thou no shroud
That wears not out?’ And I, with spirit bowed:
‘O, what will not wear out?’ Earth answered: ‘These—
The fear and love of God and his decrees.’”