Some for the Glories of This World; and some ~
Sigh for the Prophet’s Paradise to come ~
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go ~
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon~
Turns Ashes–or it prospers; and anon~
Like Snow upon the Desert’s dusty Face~
Lighting a little hour or two–is gone.
Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai~
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day~
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp~
Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.