  THE desert trembles in the heat The water pools are bitter. Boy, we follow the camel track; Sarah rides in a scarlet litter. Here is the water, Ishmael, The bread your father gave. Sarah crumbles a wheaten cake, Her cup is filled by an eager slave. Tonight our tent is hung with stars. In comfort Sarah rests. Abram dreams of the bondwoman, Of Hagar’s brown breasts. Lord Osiris hear me! Isis, Heavenly One! All men’s hands are against me, But mine was the first-born son. |
|
