A CERTAIN Pasha, dead these thousand years, Once from his harem fled in sudden tears, And had this sentence on the city's gate Deeply engraven, "Only God is great." So those four words above the city's noise Hung like the accents of an angel's voice, And evermore, from the high barbacan, Saluted each returning caravan. Lost is that city's glory. Every gust Lifts, with crisp leaves, the unknown Pasha's dust. And all is ruin -- save one wrinkled gate Whereon is written, "Only God is great." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH IMPERTURBABLE by CONRAD AIKEN A POEM FROM BOULDER RIDGE by JAMES GALVIN LEFT-HANDED POEM by JAMES GALVIN THE STORY OF THE END OF THE STORY by JAMES GALVIN THE LEAVES OF THE TREE HIDE THE SUN by DAVID IGNATOW THE LONESOME CHILD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD GETTING A PURCHASE by KAREN SWENSON THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON |