Classic Poem

Young Abdul scorched in fire of a desert sun
And munched a locust crushed beneath his feet;
He thanked good Allah, and when the scorch was done,
He slept where starlight paced the sandy street.
All night he skimmed in dream down a dervish river
And heard green dragons sighing for his blood,
Till soon the beauty of it made him shiver,
And then he floated restless on the flood.
His ears pricked sharp; he cringed and cursed to see
A vague red Thing that shrieked across the plain
Like India's mad ocean...Agony!
What unguessed stab made Allah cry in pain?
Up wakened Abdul, belching wretched moans,
And drew his scimitar and hacked his bones.