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...LAUSANNE: IN GIBBON'S OLD GARDEN by THOMAS HARDY THOUGHTS OF PHENA AT NEWS OF HER DEATH by THOMAS HARDY THE ILIAD: ACHILLES OVER THE TRENCH by HOMER SONNET: 129 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SCORN NOT THE LEAST by ROBERT SOUTHWELL ENVOY: 2. TO MY MOTHER by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 129 by ALFRED TENNYSON |