Chapter II

O my Companion, Night is passing fair, Fairer than aught the dawn and sundown wear; And fairer, too, than all the gilded days Of blond Illusion and its golden snare.

III

Hark, in the minarets muazzens call The evening hour that in the interval Of darkness Ahmad might remembered be,-- Remembered of the Darkness be they all.

IV

And hear the others who with cymbals try To stay the feet of every passer-by: The market-men along the darkling lane Are crying up their wares.--Oh! let them cry.