The long well rose above me, a slim shaft,

With wet, black walls, and high aloft the light

Round as a moon intensified my night.

I ate the air and bitterly I quaffed

The death damp; nor my pleading nor my craft

Availed to aid me in my desperate plight:

The vista of high heaven the only sight

To see, and at my woe high heaven had laughed.

Suddenly the darkness deepened, and a face

Gloomed on the opening, terrible and grim

An Afreet! In his hands he held disgrace

And direst poverty and ruinous strife.

“Choose now between,” he cried, “calm Death by him

And Life empoisoned,” yet I cried, “Give Life.”