289
Beneath the sun of Araby
The desert wanderer ceased to sigh,
Exhausted on its burning path.
Then rose upon the Wilderness
The solitary Driver's cry:
Thoughts of his home upon him press,
As, in his utter loneliness,
He sees his burden-bearer die.
Hope gives no echo to his call—
Ne'er from his comrade will he sever!
The red sky is his funeral pall;
A prayer—a moan—'tis over, all—
Camel and lord now rest for ever!
A three hour's journey from the spring
Loved of the panting Caravan—
Within a little sandy ring—
The Camel's bones lie whitening,
With thine, old, unlamented man!
