Explore "Morocco" by S.L. Bensusan on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
With the brief gladness of the Palms, / that tower and sway o'er seething plain, / Fraught with the thoughts of rustling shade, / and welling spring, and rushing rain; / 'Tis their's to pass with joy and hope, / whose souls shall ever thrill and fill / Dreams of the Birthplace and the Tomb, -- / visions of Allah's Holy Hill. / _The Kasidah._
We travel slowly, for the Maalem "father" of the pack-mules -- guide, philosopher, and trusted companion -- says that haste kills strong men, and often repeats a Moorish proverb which tells us that walking is better than running, and that of all things sitting still is best. If Salam and I, reaching a piece of level sward by the side of some orchard or arable land when the heat of the day has passed, venture to indulge in a brisk canter, the Maalem's face grows black as his eyes.