Evening in the Velvet-Lands

	Ah, the time has come again,
	When the bells summon all good men
	To pray to Allah at the mosque,
	And ask forgiveness for the lost.

	Even slides gently over wells
	Where women come at dawn in gowns,
	While rings the shining sound of bells
	And golden light the darkness drowns.
	Now the music more softly tells
	The truths that men have written down:

	Ya, Allah, ilaha Allah,
	Il Mohammed rasul Allah.
	Evening to velvet-lands again
	Has come, and it calls all good men.

	Evening slides on desert sands
	Beneath the cloudless stare of stars.
	This is twilight in velvet-lands,
	Where from air crystal prison bars
	Of light descend, from Allah's hands.
	The ringing bells are heard afar:

	Sweet the music, sweeter the tune,
	Beneath the light of sun and moon,
	But especially moon again:
	Evening summons all good men.

	Evening glides on rarest trees,
	On waters soft with sapphire glow,
	The jeweled crown of oases.
	This land has never dreamed of snow,
	And need never, for hues like these
	Can be found in no flake we know.

	The bells are pealing out their dreams,
	And if those are of light, not streams,
	What does it matter? The time when
	Dreams come true has come: stars again.

	Even glides on the holy flame
	The sun sends up to frame the mosque.
	Even the light speaks Allah's name.
	Under that light, no man is lost.
	Rare and serene the pearl-pale claim,
	And for sunlight there is no cost.

	Ever in expanding ripples,
	The call rises through star-stipples.
	Cerulean is the time when 
	Dusk comes to velvet-lands again.

	Even rides on wandering rays
	Of light that a rounded portal
	Hosts for a short while, ere it strays.
	Night as Allah is immortal,
	And lingers in the winding ways
	Of the houses with soft chortle.

	Oh, rise, rise, bells! Men, heed the prayer
	That calls to you through duskened air!
	Shimmering tones that promise when
	Morning returns, now summon men.

	Evening rides to lighted camps
	And awaits with fervent desire
	The time for kindling of the lamps,
	To learn the secret of the fire.
	But even desire slowly damps;
	Of some things even dark can tire.

	But ever lingering the prayer
	Telling Him to whom all is fair
	The time has once more come again,
	And the bells must call all good men.

	Even strides upon the high dunes,
	And makes the sky a golden bowl
	To cap a thousand scattered moons
	That the sand holds and swallows whole.
	From a distance, the windy tunes
	Come blowing from the desert's soul.
	
	But still there is a lyrical
	Song from the mosques, a miracle
	That whispers night beloved of men
	Has come to velvet-lands again.

	Evening strides on camels' fur,
	And creates a glimmering gold
	That in warmest songs of summer
	Alone might have some chance to hold.
	But the hue here cannot linger,
	Only in songs unsung, untold.

	Now the sky with stars is brilliant,
	Light from rapturous gardens lent.
	All is a story, all again
	The time when sunset comes to men.

	Evening bides on the pale walls
	Risen in gleaming fairy shapes
	That make up the fantastic halls
	Of glowing light that wear light's capes.
	Let the stranger when even falls
	Be inside, and then his mind gapes.

	Beautiful is the lighted tone
	Rising from a place that has shone
	With more light than ever! Oh, men!
	Do you hear? Night has come again!

	Even bides in gentle places
	And frightens not with its roaming
	The praying, upon whose faces
	It puts the prettiest gloaming.
	It rests on the mosque and braces
	For night, the dome with light doming.

	Oh, this night, all the world is fair!
	It cannot but be: dusky air
	Whispers that even to all men
	And velvet-lands, has come again.