 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
This Arab-folk, sith thousands of Suns years;
Áfter the custom of their fathers, dwell
In herdsmens tents: yond four-square flitting-booths;
Whose walls be home-spun curtains, of hair-cloth;
The women weave, of their beasts' hoarded fleece.
Áfter the custom of their fathers, dwell
In herdsmens tents: yond four-square flitting-booths;
Whose walls be home-spun curtains, of hair-cloth;
The women weave, of their beasts' hoarded fleece.
Stand goodly open, those black tents of theirs,
Pitcht in ínhospitáble high wílderness.
Whose poor indwellers wont is, to receive;
To shelter and surety, guestship, fellowship;
As they too ben GODS guests, HIS fugitive:
And thé forwandered wáyfarer, in théir wild paths;
HE sends, to their scant hearths, to prove their hearts.
Pitcht in ínhospitáble high wílderness.
Whose poor indwellers wont is, to receive;
To shelter and surety, guestship, fellowship;
As they too ben GODS guests, HIS fugitive:
And thé forwandered wáyfarer, in théir wild paths;
HE sends, to their scant hearths, to prove their hearts.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |