ABOUT the ending of the Ramadan, When leanest grows the famished Mussulman, A haggard ne'er-do-well, Mahmoud by name, At the tenth hour to Calip OMAR came. 'Lord of the Faithful (quoth he), at the last The long moon waneth, and men cease to fast; Hard then, O hard! the lot of him must be, Who spares to eat ... but not for piety!' 'Hast thou no calling, Friend?' -- the Caliph said. 'Sir, I make verses for my daily bread.' 'Verse!' -- answered OMAR. ''Tis a dish, indeed, Whereof but scantily a man may feed. Go. Learn the Tenter's or the Potter's Art, -- Verse is a drug not sold in any mart.' I know not if that hungry Mahmoud died; But this I know -- he must have versified, For, with his race, from better still to worse, The plague of writing follows like a curse; And men will scribble though they fail to dine, Which is the Moral of more Books than mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POEM FROM THE EDGE OF AMERICA by JAMES GALVIN INEVITABLY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MAD GARDENER'S SONG by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON THE MAIDEN QUEEN: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN SONNET FROM JAPAN: 2. THE SHRINE OF THE PILGRIM SANDALS by ADELAIDE NICHOLS BAKER |