Classic Poem

The wine-seller old to gladden, The Easterly breeze hath come;
The season of mirth and music, Of joyance and ease hath come.

The air is the breath of Jesus; Musk-shedding the earth is grown;
The birds are become in clamour And green on the trees hath come.

The wind of the Spring hath heated Th'oven of the tulip so
That the bud is a-sweat and to ferment The rose in the leas hath come.

" Nay, hearken to me and study For pleasance. " Mine ear unto,
This word from an unseen speaker, What season night flees, hath come.

Meknoweth not what the free lily Hath heard from the bird of the dawn,
That, for all her ten tongues, she to silence With every of these hath come.

What room for the uninitiate Is in the friends' retreat?
Quick, cover the cup, for the patchcoat (Beware, debauchees!) hath come.

Nay, put off the apprehension Of parting and rest content;
For, since that the Div departed, The angel of ease hath come.

I give thee the goodly tidings That gone from our neighbourhood
The pietist is and the vintner (Bring wine without lees!) hath come.

Lo! Hafiz the cell for the winehouse Hath left; from austerity's craze
And dissembling's debauch to his senses The man, so God please, hath come.