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The stars shall be broken like mirrors of brass,
And Rapture be sunk like a stone in the sea,
Ere the carpet of prayer or of penance surpass
Thy carpet of dreams, O Mohamed Ali!
In the silence of Shiraz my soul shall await,
Untroubled, the wandering Angel of Fate. . . .
What terror or joy shall his hands hold for me,
Who bringeth the goblet of guerdon too late?
The stars shall be mown and uprooted like grass,
And glory be flung like a weed in the sea.
Ere the goblet of doom or salvation surpass
Thy goblet of love, O Mohamed Ali!
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