Classic Poem

Hope still, my heart, and cavil not at sorrow;
Grief and disaster
Are but the moonless seasons of the year,
And day comes faster
Because the night was dark. O pleasant Zahi,
Garden of gladness,
How many a night hast thou been witness to
My sweet love-madness?

But other kings have loved at other seasons,
Taken their pleasure
In other lands, and now hold naught of earth
But their own measure.
Grief and Delight, these twain shall never cry
Truce to contention
Till Death shall come and in a little sleep
Sink the dissension.