A Persian Apologue

Melek the sultan, tired and wan, Nodded at noon on the divan. Beside the fountain lingered near Jamil the bard, and the vizier --- Old Yusuf, cross and hard to please; Then Jamil sang, in words like these: Slim is Butheina -- slim is she As boughs of the Araka-tree! 'Nay,' quoth the other, teeth between, 'Learn, if you will -- I call her lean.' Sweet is Butheina -- sweet as wine, With smiles that like red bubbles shine! 'True. -- by the Prophet!' Yusuf said. 'She makes men wander in the head!' Dear is Butheina -- ah! more dear Than all the maidens of Kashmeer! 'Dear,' came the answer, quick as thought, 'Dear . . and yet always to be bought.' So Jamil ceased. But still Life's page Shows diverse unto Youth and Age: And, be the song of Ghouls or Gods, Time, like the Sultan, sits . . and nods.