Constantinople - The Muezzin
By Victoria Mary Sackville-West
Above the city at his feet,
Above the dome, above the sea,
He rises unconfined and free
To break upon the noonday heat.
He turns around the parapet,
Black-robed against the marble tower;
His singing gains or loses power
In pacing round the minaret.
A brother to the singing birds
He never knew restraining walls,
But freely rises, freely falls
The rhythm of the sacred words.
I would that it to me were given
To climb each day the muezzin's stair
And in the warm and silent air
To sing my heart out into Heaven.