Classic Poem

From the nook of the tavern last night a voice said,
“Sins pardon They; drink, then, and be not a-dread.

“God's grace still a-work is: still Gabriel brings
“Glad tidings of mercy for quick and for dead.

“More great than our sin His forgiveness is.” Peace!
What sayst thou? A riddle uneath to be read!

“To the winehouse go bear thy raw wit, so its blood
“Into ferment be brought by the wine ruby-red.

“Though union for striving They give not, o heart,
“The path, as thou mayst, of endeavour still tread.”

Mine ear and the ring of her forelock are one;
The dust of the wine-seller's door and my head.

Small sin in the sight of the fault-hiding King
Is Hafiz's toping, when all hath been said.