Page:The Luzumiyat of Abu'l-Ala.djvu/48



And he the Messenger, who takes away The faded garments, purple, white, and gray
 * Of all our dreams unto the Dyer, will

Bring back new robes to-morrow—so they say.

But now the funeral is passing by. And in its trail, beneath this moaning sky.
 * The howdaj comes,—both vanish into night;

To me are one, the sob, the joyous cry.