  The camel at the old sakiyeh Toils around and round. Aweary is he of the Nile And of the wailing sound Of the slow wheel he turns all day To lift the water on its way Over the fields of Ahmed Bey, That with green grain abound. Aweary is he, too, of fellÀheen Who compel him on, With thick-voiced chanting till the day Over the West has gone. For the bold Desert was he made, The Bedouin, his lord, to aid, That ever must be drawn. But on he toils while dahabiyeh And dark felucca glide Below him on the glassy flow Of the gray river's tide. Then when the night has come lies down, In sleep the servile day to drown— Like all whom Life turns with a frown From their true fate aside. |
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