XI.

 With me along the strip of Herbage strown
 That just divides the desert from the sown,
   Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot--
 And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!


XII.

 A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
 A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou
   Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
 Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!


XIII.

 Some for the Glories of This World; and some
 Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
   Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
 Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!


XIV.

 Look to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
 Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow,
   At once the silken tassel of my Purse
 Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."


XV.

 And those who husbanded the Golden grain,
 And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
   Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
 As, buried once, Men want dug up again.