Classic Poem

In the Magians' stead the very Light of God (o rare!) I see;
Mark this light and note this wonder, What it is and where I see.

Who's the dreg-drainer, I wonder, Of this tavern, Lord, whose door
Cynosure of mortal wishes, Niche of all men's prayer, I see?

All I vaunt of rank and worship, Lover, toper, amorist,
From the favour of your teaching, Spirits debonair, I see.

O Commander of the Pilgrims, Boast thee not of grace Divine;
An the House thou see, its master, Him that dwelleth there, I see.

None from China's muskpods ever Nor from Tartar musk hath seen
What, each dawntide, from the waftings That the East winds bear I see.

In the circle of existence, Save the point of Unity,
Nought there is: of how and wherefore, Yea, this question bare I see.

Muskpod-opening from the tresses Of the fair I fain would do.
Far the thought be! Nay, my error Passing all compare I see.

Burning heart and brimming eyelids, Night-lamenting, dawntide-sighs,
These all, from thy sweet sight parted, Fallen to my share I see.

Momently my thought waylaid is By the phantom of thy face:
Unto whom the visions utter In this veil fore'er I see?

For whoremongering, at Hafiz Carp not, friend; for him, indeed,
Of your lovers eke, not only Of the wanton fair, I see.