If my heart of the musk-scented grapejuice Incline me to drink, 'tis meet;
For from fast and hypocrisy cometh Not goodness's fragrance sweet.

Albeit the whole creation Forbid me from love, yet that,
Forsooth, will I do which the Master Commandeth, what ever be 't.

Despair not of grace and of favour; For ever the generous soul
Forgiveth the lover's errors And pitieth his defeat.

In the ring of the prayirs and praisers Abideth the heart, in hope
That the Friend may be moved to open A ring of her tress's pleat.

O thou that hast God-given beauty And Fortune's bridal bower,
What needment hast thou of tirers, To busk thee and make thee neat?

Fair, fair is the sward, heart-luring The air and the wine unblent;
There's nought but the glad heart wanting, To render our mirth complete.

Fair, fair is the world-bride (Fortune); But have thou a care; for know,
In nobody's springes setteth This cloistered one her feet.

This world-mead shall never empty Of cypress and tulip bide;
For ever another cometh, As one away doth fleet.

The heart of our beggarly nature Ne'er question; but look therein;
For th' image of all things truly This mirror doth repeat.

" Nay, where were the harm, o mooncheek, " Quoth I to her, coaxingly,
" A heartbroken one if thou solace With somewhat of sugar to eat? "

" O Hafiz " , she answered, laughing, " That ever a kiss of thine
" The cheek of the moon should sully, For God's sake, hold it not feat! "