Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/61

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42
THE DEAN OF SANTIAGO


“Then you must eat before the task is set:
Well, when you finish; since you eager are
We should begin. Nay, this I do insist.
For you are weary, having travelled far.

“Hussein!”—he bids the servant by his side—
“Go tell the cook a guest with me will dine;
And let two capons be prepared by him,
And two gold cups of my most famous wine.

“Tie up the straying mule. And now begone;
The Dean within an hour will dine with me.”
The servant goes, and lets the curtain fall,
And darkness folds the room in mystery.

Soft wings brush past the Dean, strange sounds Boat up,
Like tongues that have no words, through the still air.
“What say you?” leans the Dean with eager ears
And grasping hands that find no substance there.

“What are you?” But the magic mist is gone,
Hussein has entered, and the light let through.
“A message for the Dean.” He reads in haste,
The Bishop being dead, we send for you.

The Dean arises full of pompous pride :
“If I am Bishop, I shall not forget
My student-teacher, and shall bid you come
To teach that lore I leave with much regret.”

A month has passed—the Bishop in his room
Receives the student bowing at his feet.
With some delight, and says he has prepared
A secret chamber where they can repeat

Their former study, and so follow it.
The student, smiling gratitude, doth speak,
“I beg a boon of you,” and hears reply,
“I make a promise, and I never break.