Mohammed and Seid

Swept by the hot wind, stark, untrackable,
The stony desert stretches to the sky.
Deep-printed shadows at the tent-door lie,
And camels slumber by the burning well.
One weeps within, wrinkled and dusk of face,
White-haired and lordly, o'er the new-brought dead:
Mohammed over Seid, who loved and read
Truth in the master when a fierce disgrace
Burned in his blood and none would heed the word.
"Behold the Prophet how he mourns a slave!"
So the slave's daughter, and Mohammed heard:
"A friend has lost a friend. What Allah gave
His wisdom takes. He never yet has erred!"
Thus said, and made the slain a martial grave.