Classic Poem

The sands of the desert glowed hot and red,
The sun of the desert beat down.
Till it blistered the top of the Carmelite's head —
Just the round shaven spot on his crown.

An Arab swept up, bare-chested and brown;
" My tent-door stands open, " he said.
The monk found a wine-skin under his gown;
The Arab gave dates and bread.

" Kind Allah, we thank thee! " the Arab cried,
When our simple repast was spread.
I fell to at once, but the monk replied,
" Nay, Sheik, thank the Lord instead! "

Then the two argued loud and the two argued long
As to how the grace should be said;
But before they got at the right or the wrong
I had finished both dates and bread.

When they turned to me I could not declare
On a point so exceedingly fine;
But I rode away on the Arab's mare
With my friend the Carmelite's wine!

Just where my thanks are due I cannot decide,
But honors are easy, I think;
So Allah I thank for the mare I ride,
The Lord for the wine I drink.