| At dawntide, intent on repentance, "For guidance," quoth I, "I'll sue" |
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| If ever it be vouchsafed me The hand in thy tress to twine |
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| Bring, wind of the East, an thou chance By the country to fare of the Friend |
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| Blest may the coming of the Feast, Cupbearer, be for thee |
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| 'Twas a bulbul drank his heart's blook And a rose his own made |
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| What while there of wine and winehouse Name and trace shall still be |
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| Still the pearl of mystery's storehouse In the screen, as 'twas, is |
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| Lo, thine image from the tablet Of my heart and soul ne'er goeth |
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| Come, so may strength return To my heart contrite again |
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| Thy lashes black a thousand rents, Sweet, in this faith have frayed of mine |
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