REMOTE behind the Sultan's palace wall That silent rises out of teeming Fez, A foreign guest, who oft broke bread there, says One day at food a morsel was let fall; And Abd-ul, keen of eye, did gently call Devout slaves to restore the slighted shred — So prized in his religion is mere bread To the great lord of that imperial hall. Up to the table of this life we sit, With sultan some, and some with tribesman placed. The fare is wheat or barley on our plate, And as we break the brittle loaf of it 'Tis well to think what fragments we do waste Which our companions may deem consecrate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PARASITICS: TO CERTAIN POETS by CONRAD AIKEN COSMOPOLITE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OWL AGAINST ROBIN by SIDNEY LANIER TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL TWO POEMS FROM THE WAR: 2 by ARCHIBALD MACLEISH SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |