Classic Poem

I.

BEDOUIN IN AMBUSH .

Seven hawks, in dismal disarray,
Across a sky of slaty gray,
Now dusking with the dusking day.

The sun low down, and almost hid
Beneath a vapory, dull lid,
Over against a pyramid.

One cluster of incessant green,
Three slender palms that tower and lean —
A crouching sentinel between.

No hissing breath upon the lip —
No stir in poised knee and hip —
No quiver from the finger tip;

But, pointing from the fatal lair,
The lithe wrist glued about the bare,
Dull-gleaming rifle's livid glare.

And slow, with wearisome slow limb,
A caravan approaching him
With fringe of shadows long and slim.

*****

II.

BEDOUIN ABROAD

A sky of glimmering, cool steel,
But barely serving to reveal
The desert where the camels kneel.

An awkward buzzard on the wing;
Above one star in filmy ring;
While lower ranks are hovering

By pots of delicate, spiced flesh;
Abundant fruits in silken mesh;
And jars of oil, and olives fresh;

And costly vestments of the Kahn,
Despoiled with bloody mare and man —
The remnants of a caravan.

Against the sky-rim, silvery,
One motionless, tall cocoa-tree;
The pyramids in angles three.

And yonder, where the morning lowers,
The fleet-winged flying-horseman scours
T'ward Ghizeh and her shining towers.