Classic Poem

Skinker, youth's capital here come bring;
Cups one or two of wine sheer come bring

The cure for love's malady, — wine, to wit, —
The old and the young man's cheer, come bring.

The sun and the moon are wine and cup:
The sun in the mid moon's sphere come bring.

Since reason is stubborn, the rope of wine,
To halter this restive steer, come bring.

Cast somewhat of water on this my fire;
Yon fire-like water anear come bring.

If gone be the rose, say, " Go in peace! "
Pure wine as rosewater clear come bring.

If past be the nightingale's song, what then?
The wine-flask's gurgle to ear come bring.

Toping may wrong be or right; but wine, —
Right or wrong be it, ne'er fear, — come bring.

For time that is past fret not; the song
Of ghittern and viol (dost hear?) come bring.

Since her but in sleep we may enjoy,
The draught that is sleeping-gear come bring.

Though drunken I be, three cups or four,
That I may be fuddled sheer, come bring.

A double pottle to Hafiz fill;
Be't sin, be't merit, wine here come bring.