THE MUEZZIN

ABOVE the city at his feet,

Above the dome, above the sea,

He rises unconfined and free

To break upon the noonday heat.

He turns around the parapet,

Black-robed against the marble tower;

His singing gains or loses power

In pacing round the minaret.

A brother to the singing birds

He never knew restraining walls,

But freely rises, freely falls

The rhythm of the sacred words.

I would that it to me were given

To climb each day the muezzin's stair

And in the warm and silent air

To sing my heart out into Heaven.