Classic Poem

My soul longed sore that my heart's need Should be fulfilled; and 'twas not.
In this vain yearning I consumed For that I willed: and 'twas not.

In questing for the talisman That ruled the wished-for treasure,
The world on me, for grief of her, Was all forspilled; and 'twas not.

Woe and alack that in pursuit Of present ease, the generous
I oftentimes besought, as do The begging guild, And 'twas not!

In jest, quoth she, — The chief, one night, I'll be of thine assembly. —
I lived her bondman, on that hope Whilst I did build; and 'twas not.

She sent me news that she would sit With winebibbers and topers:
My name forthright for winebibbing The wide world filled; and 'twas not.

Well may the heart's dove in my breast Flutter; for lo, the twinings
And springes of her tresses' snare Its pathway filled; and 'twas not.

Of my desire, for drunkenness, To kiss her lip of ruby,
How on my heart much blood, like wine In cup, distilled! And 'twas not.

Without a guide, adventure not Thy foot in Love's direction;
For many pains I used to gain The thing I willed; and 'twas not.

Hafiz a thousand shifts devised, By dint of thought and longing,
That he might make that wilding tame; But nought it skilled and 'twas not.