The citizeness said to the Bedouine: 
“Look at thy similars and thou shalt see
In them but rustics, true dogs of the camp. 
Now what art thou beside a city girl? 
Thou art a Bedouine.  Dost thou not dream
Of goat-skin bottles to be filled at dawn? 
And loads of wood that thou must daily cut? 
And how thou’rt doomed to turn the mill all night,
Fatigued, harassed?  Thy feet, unshod, are chapped
And full of cracks.  Thy head can never feel
The solace of uncovering, and thou,
All broken with fatigue, must go to sleep
Upon the ground, in soot and dust to lie,
Just like a serpent coiled upon himself. 
Thy covering is the tatters of old tents,
Thy pillow is the stones upon the hearth. 
All clad in rags thou hast a heavy sleep
Awaking to another stupid day. 
Such is the life of all you country folk. 
What art thou then compared to those who live
In shade of walls, who have their mosques for prayer
Where questions are discussed and deeds are drawn?”

  The Arab woman to the city girl
  Replied:  “Get out!  Thou’rt like a caverned owl. 
  And who art thou beside the Arab girls,
  The daughters of those tribes whose standards wave
  Above brave bands of horsemen as they speed? 
  Look at thy similars.  The doctor ne’er
  Can leave their side.  Without an illness known
  They’re faded, pale, and sallow.  The harsh lime
  Hath filled thy blood with poison.  Thou art dead,
  Although thou seem’st alive.  Thou ne’er hast seen
  Our noble Arabs and their feats of strength,
  Who to the deserts bring prosperity
  By their sharp swords!  If thou could’st see our tribe
  When all the horsemen charge a hostile band,
  Armed with bright lances and with shields to break
  The enemy’s strong blow!  Those who are like
  To them are famed afar and glorified. 
  They’re generous hosts and men of nature free. 
  Within the mosques they’ve built and lodgings made
  For tolba and for guests.  All those who come
  To visit them, bear gifts away, and give
  Them praises.  Why should they reside in town
  Where everything’s with price of silver bought?”

  The city girl replied:  “Oh, Bedouine,
  Thou dost forget all that thou hast to do. 
  Thou go’st from house to house, with artichokes
  And mallows, oyster-plants, and such,
  Thy garments soaked all through and through with grease. 
  This is thy daily life.  I do not speak
  Of what is hid from view.  Thy slanders cease! 
  What canst thou say of me?  Better than thee
  I follow all the precepts of the Sonna
  And note more faithfully the sacred hours. 
  Hid by my veil no eye hath seen my face: 
  I’m not like thee, forever in the field. 
  I’ve streets to go on when I walk abroad. 
  What art thou, then, beside me?  I heard not
  The cows and follow them about all day. 
  Thou eatest sorrel wild and heart of dwarf
  Palm-tree.  Thy feet are tired with walking far,
  And thy rough hands with digging in the earth.”