Classic Poem

IN THE PERSIAN FORM AND MEASURE .

How sweet the gale of morning breathes!
News, that the rose will soon approach
Soon will a thousand parted souls
Since tidings, which in every heart
Late near my charmer's flowing robe
Thence, odour to the rose-bud's veil,
Painful is absence, and that pain
Thou know'st, dear maid! when to thine ear
Why should I trace love's mazy path,
Black destiny! my lot is woe,
In vain, a friend his mind disturbs,
When sage physician to the couch,
A roving stranger in thy town
Till this his name, and rambling lay
Sweet news of my delight he brings;
the tuneful bird of night , he brings.
be led; his captives, through the sky,
must ardent flames excite , he brings.
he pass'd, and kiss'd, the fragrant hem;
and jasmine's mantle white , he brings.
to some base rival oft is ow'd;
false tales, contriv'd in spite , he brings.
since destiny my bliss forbids?
to me no ray of light he brings.
in vain a childish trouble gives,
of heartsick love-lorn wight , he brings,
no guidance can sad Jami find,
to thine all-piercing sight he brings.