Taking Possession

When, in the wastes of old, the Arabian Sheikh
Beheld a sudden peace amid the sands,
With springing waters and green pasture lands,
Fringed with the waving palm and cactus-spike,

Think ye he stayed to fashion fence or dyke?
Nay! for he called into his hollowed hands
Till all his hounds came trooping swift in bands:
Sheep-dog and wolf-hound, terrier, cur, and tyke,

They bayed with deep, full voices on the calm.
Then he: "So far as the last echoes die
The land is mine, pasture and spring and palm!"

So men who watch afar the Hope Divine
Rally a pack of sectaries and cry:
"Behold the Land of Promise: ours, not thine!"