Classic Poem

The winecup in hand whoso doth hold,
The emp'ry of Jem e'ermo' doth hold.

In the winehouse the fountain of Khizr seek;
Its water the winecup a-flow doth hold.

The end of life's thread to the cup make fast;
For ordinance life therefro' doth hold.

Zealots and piety; we and wine:
For whether the Friend, I'd know, doth hold?

Skinker, excepting thy lip, there's nought
Of worth that this world below doth hold.

The drowsed narcissus from thy fair eye
Its borrowed graces and show doth hold.

The praise of thy cheek and thy tress my heart
At dawn-white and evenglow doth hold.

Full salt-rights over the wounded breast
Thy lip of ruby, heigho! doth hold.

O soul, in the chin-pit, thy beauty slaves,
Like Hafiz, hundreds arow doth hold.