There was an arch at Banias,
A gateway builded royally,
Whereon was graved for man to see, —
For every traveler that might pass, —
O'er all beneath the wheeling sun
There rules supreme one Allah, — one!

Crumbled that arch at Banias,
No more than shard or shattered stone
Round which the mountain winds make moan;
Yet still, howe'er the ages pass,
O'er all beneath the wheeling sun
There rules supreme one Allah, — one!