Classic Poem

In the Friend's high places every Heart's initiate abideth
And whoso this craft ignoreth Still a renegate abideth.

Blame my heart not, if it issue Forth the curtain of concealment;
God be thanked that it no longer In pride's prison grate abideth!

Lo, whilere I had a patchcoat And an hundred faults it covered;
Pledged for wine and song the rag was; But the girdle strait abideth.

Out of pawn for wine the Soufis Took their gaberdines; mine only
'Tis that in the vintner's keeping Early still and late abideth.

Goodlier object of remembrance Than Love's speech's sound I never
Knew of all that in this whirling Round of things create abideth.

Other patchcoateers have drunken Been of yore, and 'tis forgotten;
But our case at each street-corner Ever in debate abideth.

Save my heart that goeth loving Aye and evermore, I never
Heard of any one who constant Still to Love's estate abideth.

Every ruby draught I've taken From her crystal hand's grown water
Of regret and in mine eyelids, Raining pearls, await abideth.

China's fair ones all astonied Are for wonder at thy beauty;
So their case, in every quarter, Limned on wall and gate abideth.

The narcissus sought by sickness Like thine eye to grow, but could not
Catch its glamour and so sickly And disconsolate abideth.

In thy tress's pleasaunce Hafiz' Heart one day itself adventured,
Thinking to return, but captive Ever in that plait abideth.