Then,
for a while, and a long while, you see him no more; for you are veiled
and shrouded, and dare not look upon the greatness of his glory; but
you know where he strides over your head by the touch of his flaming
sword. No words are spoken; but your Arabs moan, your camels sigh, your
skin glows, your shoulders ache; and, for sights, you see the pattern
and the web of the silk that veils your eyes, and the glare of the
outer light.
"Time labors on,--your skin glows, and your shoulders ache, your Arabs
moan, your camels sigh, and you see the same pattern on the silk, and
the same glare beyond; but conquering Time marches on, and by-and-by
the descending sun has compassed the heaven, and now softly touches
your right arm, and throws your lank shadow over the sand, right along
on the way to Persia. Then again you look upon his face, for his power
is all veiled in his beauty, and the redness of flames has become the
redness of roses; the fair, wavy cloud that fled in the morning now
comes to his sight once more,--comes blushing, but still comes
on,--comes burning with blushes, yet hastens, and clings to his side.
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