|Iqbal has no doubt of Europe’s humaneness: she|
Sheds tears for all peoples groaning beneath oppression;
Her reverend churchmen furnish her liberally
With wiring and bulbs for moral illumination.
And yet, my heart burns for Syria and Palestine,
And finds for this knotty puzzle no explanation—
Enlarged from the ‘savage grasp’ of the Turk, they pine,
Poor things, in the clutches now of ‘civilization.’