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Title: Sonnets from Hafez & Other Verses

Author: Elizabeth Bridges Daryush

active 14th century Hafiz

Release date: August 16, 2015 [eBook #49716]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Sonya Schermann and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from images generously made available by The
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS FROM HAFEZ & OTHER VERSES *** 




Transcriber's Note:


The cover was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.






SONNETS FROM HAFEZ
 
& other verses





[decoration]







BY


ELIZABETH BRIDGES










HUMPHREY MILFORD


OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS


LONDON    EDINBURGH    GLASGOW    COPENHAGEN


NEW YORK    TORONTO    MELBOURNE    CAPE TOWN


BOMBAY    CALCUTTA    MADRAS    SHANGHAI    PEKING


1921










PRINTED IN ENGLAND


AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS


BY FREDERICK HALL








NOTE




The last fifteen pieces in this book, which are founded
on odes of Hafez, are not translations. Their aim is rather
to convey if possible something of the original spirit than
to give a faithful rendering of either thought or form;
& I have not scrupled to omit, insert, alter or even
deliberately to pervert the idea as fancy or feeling dictated.
Some of the poems follow the Persian fairly closely
(especially nos. 30, 31, 34, & 35); others are merely founded
on or suggested by one or two couplets.


No. 4 was suggested by a Persian dialect quatrain by
Baba Tahir.


The remainder are original.


E. B.








Chilswell,


Sept. 1920.












TO


A. A. D.








1










When sunlight faileth,


& day’s glow is gone;


When chill mist traileth


Where warm splendour shone;






When summer’s pleasure


Dieth,—dieth too


The transient treasure


That with life up-grew






& none may herit,


Where then wilt thou turn,


O vagrant spirit,


That no home didst earn;






When none replieth


Of thy friends so true,


When sweet Joy crieth


‘Adieu, love, adieu!’










2










I called to fading day


As o’er the hill she flew,


‘Whither, glad light, away?


Take me, O take me too!’


She said, ‘O wingless one,


Thou hast thy memoried sun’.






I said to the droop’d rose


Awhile that was so fair,


‘Why dost so swiftly lose,


Sweet grace, thy blooming air?’


She said, ‘This is my doom;


Cherish thou beauty’s tomb’.






I cried to Joy as late


I stood, bidding farewell,


‘Must this be too thy fate


Whom I have loved so well?


He said, ‘My gift I leave


With her whom I bereave’.










3










O youth’s young cloudlet, O freshness free,


With heart so light on the winds to fly


Or glisten in spray up-scatter’d,—I


Am sad as the full surgings of the sea;


I gave thee birth, thou shalt return to me.






Thy heart is light as the empty wind


Of barren purposeless change,—but I


Am the thought-burden’d slow-searching mind:


I am the agony to form & find;—


The fluxing travail of eternity.










4










Wend I, wander I, past all worlds that be;


Ever have I wander’d or e’er the earth was made;


Urg’d like the álien áir o’er land & sea,


Sleepless as sunlight, joyless as its shade.






Not on your earth travel I; sáy not to mé


‘Cease awhile thy wandering, Ó tir’d day!’


Say not, ‘O pilgrim, rest thee; comfort thee’:


Not hére is my journey’s end, Indus nor Cathay.










5
 
ON A HILL










Eyes that o’er the landscape fly,


Over dale & wood & stream


To the cloud-realms of the sky;






Eyes that wander still & dream,


Hopes that ever forward press


Seeking lovelier loveliness;






All the world is yours to roam


—Searching eye & swiftling thought—


Nowhere can ye make your home;






Not where peace so vainly sought


Bower’d in the valley lies,


Nor content’s small villages;






Nor can pleasure’s garish dress


Tempt you to a mean caress


—Thoughts that will not rest nor stay—






Ever do ye tell her nay;


Still ye wander—‘Where, O say,


Lies our vision’d loveliness?’










6
 
AFTER MUSIC










O what availeth thee thy melting mood,


Thine ecstasy


When once again thy thralldoms o’er thee brood:






& what doth profit thee thy courage high,


& strength so fain;


So soon agen thy coward heart shall fly?






For more & stronger strife our strength shall strain,


Though hope’s best good


Be but this hope: to strive, & strive again.










7










All things born to break


In meek sacrifice


For another’s sake,






All man’s striving vain,


Lavish’d as the price


Of the heart’s hid pain—






Long, O spirit-bird,


Of thy lonely fear


Hast thou sung unheard






In hope’s moon-lit wood,


While no creature near


Knew nor understood.










8










If there be any power in passion’s prayer—


But no: such ultimate longings have no word:


There is no eloquence in last despair.






Many have voiced their pain & answer heard;


Though ’twere but this, that to give bodied form


To grief, call’d their own heart to combat it:


But not ev’n thus can I pray;—thou strong storm,


All-overpowering, baffling bravest wit,


Wild spirit spurning cage of time or name,


Furious intangible fire, no duteous thought


Can deal with thee, to no calm altar-flame


Confine, nor wish acceptable,—O if aught






From such dumb need can reach aught’s hearing ear,


This is it now, O hear, O hear, O hear!










9










In love’s great ocean, whose calm-shelter’d shore


Must he for ever leave, whose soul is bound


On farthest quest, life’s wonders to explore—






That mightiest flood, all-whelming, torment-toss’d,


Wherein must ev’ry lover’s self be lost


Ere the Belovéd’s lovelier self be found—






Think not, O searcher, in that sea to find


Food for thine earth-born strength & lustful show,


Nor glorious pearl to deck thy worldly mind,






Nor isle of ease; all such doth he forego


Who, recking nought of hurt to pride or limb,


Heark’neth to love’s unchallengeable call:






Yea, who would venture, no help is for him


Save whole surrender; health, strength, life & all.










10










When sorrow hath outsoar’d our nature’s clime,


Leaving it far remote &, like a strong


Eagle lone brooding on her peak sublime,


Graspeth in solitude her towering wrong;






& no more hankereth for petty prey


Nor bleeding victim wherewithal to still


Her hunger of desolate passion, but thus aye


Sitteth, devour’d by her own vital ill,






Motionless, nerveless, where for her no sound


Of life is, only the wind’s alien


Moan that meandereth sleeplessly around


The promontory,—what saviour can then






Help helpless sorrow? What shall break that spell


Of icy death in life, that shackling Hell?










11










O gentle weariness,


Thine is the power that can all spirits free


From bonding-trouble, thou art a goddess


To all the suffering slaves of misery.






Thy sanctuary


No suppliant vainly seeketh; wheresoe’er


Desperate grief is, then unfailingly


Is thine all-hallowing rest & refuge there.






Our sorrow hath outgrown


Solace, yet still in thine all-mothering hand


Is balm of soft oblivion, who alone


Our never-ending needs dost understand.










12
 
1919










Peace, for whose presence did we erewhile call


With cry sincere, vowing (God knoweth, those


Prótests how passionate were) to love thee all,


Yet when thou camest, pander’d to thy foes


Weaklier than ever, now again the throes


Convulse our being; now, Peace, may’st thou see,


This lust-devoted land is not for thee.






Farewell! Small wonder is it if thou flee


Such faithlessness, yet doth thy memory still


Dwell in each place where thou hast walked with me,


In dawn’s fresh mead or by noon’s shady rill,


Or when cool evening wafteth, on our hill;


Allwheres that beauty’s comfort-laden breath


Sootheth tired sorrow till it slumbereth.










13
 
SONG










Beauty is a waving tree,


Beauty is a flower,


Beauty is a grassy lea


& a shady bower,


Beauty is the verdant Spring


In our hearts awakening.






Beauty is a summer sun


Warming all the land,


Whose full bounty doth o’errun


More than our demand;


Spreadeth Beauty her kind feast


Lavishly for man & beast.






Autumn’s quiet hast thou too,


Beauty, who canst feed


Every craving, known or new


Of the spirit’s need,


Laying up a lasting store


Of ripe bliss for evermore.






O true Beauty, though joy’s vain


Seasons come & go,


Thou a refuge dost remain


From all wintry woe,


Thou art still the perfect clime


Where no transience is nor time.










14










Wheresoever beauty flies,


Follow her on eager wings


Beauteous wild imaginings.






Wheresoever she may tread,


Lovely vivid flowers arise,


Springing swift as thoughts unsaid.






Living beauty, more than wise,


Fair art thou to living eyes,


Though less fair than is the dead


Myrtle-wreath that more we prize;






Relic of the one dear head


That for each it garlanded.










15










When first to earth thy gentle spirit came


From some soft climate of Elysian field,


Garmented in its own ethereal flame;






When first from heav’n’s high peace it enter’d here,


No armour had it then, nor guarding shield,


Nor sword for safety, nor attacking spear,


No pang’d misgivings suffered it, nor fear,


Seeing in every face its own sweet face,


Smiling to treachery with trustful eyes,


Finding in nature its own nature’s grace:


—So Adam in his vision’d Paradise


Saw but God’s gifts, till taste of bitter ruth


Taught him what earth’s creation is in truth:—






Now, O stern angel, none can make relent


Thy steely wrath, thy sword of punishment.










16










For sake of these two splendours do the wise


Set store on riches, & for these alone:


For these two glories only do they prize


Power & majesty of kingly throne:






Or this: to succour friendship in distress,


To comfort humble sorrow, nor despise


To cheer the joyless heart of weariness,


To guard & aid whom fortune doth oppress


That he to life’s glad kingdom be restor’d


(& thus their monument of thanks they raise


More high than pomp’s vain pinnacle of praise),






Or this: to forge therefrom a trenchant sword


Whereat shall poltroon evil cower & fly,


& smite Hell’s fiends of foulness that they die.










17










She hath not beauty, that ill-fortun’d gem


Wherewith may women dazzle men’s meek eyes


Ere they enslave, un-man & slaughter them.






Nor doth she vaunt afar her heart’s hid prize,


Nor with wide-lavish’d scent of hope allure


Ere men behold her, nor with rich disguise.






Nor hath she wit, that sword wherewith to smart


Delicate souls, with flashing stroke unsure


Of sharp misprise, wounding some gentle heart.






Yet not unlovely she, my silent rose,


That only may to true love’s eyes unclose,


Nor yet doth stintingly her smiles impart;






—But should bold evil venture, O what proud


Pitilessness hath she then, what anger loud!










18










When thou art gone, & when are gone all those


That knew thee & that loved thy living grace,


Merged in the formless flood whence all arose,






When thou hast passed, & of thy life no trace


Remaineth, nor remembrancer to say


‘Such was he, such his form, his voice, his face’,






In that new time shall rise, untouched by thee,


The eddying circles still, & pass away;


Full many a spring shall turn to winter dree,


& morn to nightfall, & life’s human day


Shall change from youth’s bright hope to darkling pain,


When thy young life in life’s hard war is slain,






When thou art gone, & I, & our strong love


Which now Time’s change doth but more changeless prove.










19
 
A YOUTH










Play thou on men as on a hárp’s stríng:


Though of themselves they lifeless are


In them thy spirit’s music shall ring.






Breathe thou in them as through a reed


Thy soul’s strong message, through them declare


To the dead world thy living need.






They are to thee as the senseless words


That embody thought’s full-felt commands;


Thy passive tools, obedient hands


To serve thy purpose, thy trusty swords:


They shall thy beauteous will express


Though they be graceless & purposeless.






Yea, live thou in men as their life’s will,


So long as life is, & good & ill.










20










Go, book: go, vessel laden with the mind


That builded thee, go now & bear thy freight


Of man’s old messaging to all mankind.






Say first:—Such oft-told things as I relate,


Such pond’rous words strung on unperish’d thought,


Such pearly praises worn by countless queens,


Such temper’d swords wherewith heroes have fought,


Such sceptres that have ruled all earth’s demesnes,


Such broider’d robes, such antique jewelry,


Such orbs, such thrones, such treasures (say thou then)


These the rich heritage of poesy


Are as wealth’s burden is to untaught men;






Life’s costly crowns that but disaster bring,


To who is not in spirit born a king.










21
 
ATTAINMENT










When the strong climber his last mountain-crest


Attaineth, & the point for which he strove


Is reached, & his desire made manifest,






& seating him the topmost heights above


He gazeth on each aspect leisurely,


Considering the path by which he clomb






& which so many attempted, & how he


The first of all his race had strength to come


Unto that eminence, & how this throne






Shall men hereafter to his name recall;


Then more than ever is he strangely lone,


Seeing earth’s dwellings spread out far & small;






& more unfathom’d seemeth & more high,


Eternal heaven’s unchanged immensity.










22










Since neither man’s proud pomp & kingly name


Endureth, nor his monumental throne,


Nor honour’d shrine, nor pinnacle of fame;






Since borne in agony to life he came


& in pain too he passeth, one by one


His joys desert him, friendless & alone,






Yea since all lov’d delights their cycles range,


All to their parent elements return,


Air to air, dust to dust,—when Thy Life’s breath,






The fire of Thine inscrutable Will them burn,


Scattering, destroying,—yea since finisheth


All things, or death, or marring grief, or change;






Since this is, this must needs Thy purpose be,


Through such dark doors to win Thy works to Thee.










23










Pureness of pale moon, loneness of far skies,


Splendour of starry regions & bright sun,


Grandeur of universal vastnesses,






Sweetness of flower, staunchness of stalwart tree,


Delicacy of small verdures ev’ry one,


Loveliness of all lowly forms that be,






Gladness of ev’ry bird that gaily sings,


Ardour of eager beasts that hunt & kill,


Rapture of all life-raptur’d living things;






Yea man’s one rapture too & his life’s joy,


His strength, his beauty & his living will,


Each soul’s will to create & to destroy,—






O thou who visitest these dwellings, why


Thus deignest thou, who art so great & high?










VERSES AFTER HAFEZ






24
 
DAWN










I saw fair Fortune, one clear morning, touch


Like the bright-sceptred sun’s first point of scorn,


With slightest finger my full-ripen’d corn.






I glimps’d her beauty: slender was she, such


As the moon’s waning sickle, paled afar,


Or dawn’s faint star-sheaves that scarce vision’d are.






I said, ‘O my life’s crowning queen, for thee


Have I long toiled without repose or rest;


In hope of thee, my harvest heavenly,


Labour’d & waited, still thou lingerest,


Tryest me still’—She turning smil’d & said,


‘Though this be, be not thou uncomforted:






Lo now already thy night-ending sun


In world-seen splendour hath his day begun’.










25










Come let us drink & deeply drown


In Heav’n’s pure wine our sorrowing!


Fling ye earth’s faded garlands down,


Scatter away life’s flowering!






Though sorrow’s myriad armies strive


To subjugate & slay us, we,


O proud cup-bearer, will contrive


To overcome their tyranny.






O earth’s sad lover, drink & throw


Unto high heaven thy misery:


So shall perchance bright beauty know


Thy longing need & bend to thee.






Not in this life’s sad city grow


Immortal flowers: O friends, arise!


Drink we the wine of truth & go


To deathless joys of Paradise.










26










Once more, O happy hill & peaceful plain,


Once more, O kindly meadow, laugh with glee:


Now is all earth’s old nature young again.






Once more the lily may her lover see;


Once more the eager tulip lifteth up


Unto the wine-filled rose her golden cup.






O hold thou dear the flowers, that through Spring’s door


Enter thy garden: ere thou may’st no more


Behold them, love them who live but for thee.






Greet them, ere they through Autumn’s gate depart:


Since for thy pleasuring God made them be,


Gaze on them gladly,—on me too, sweet heart,






Who for thy sake alone live; give me one


Welcome, once smile on me, ere I be gone.










27










Tell me not, mournful Preacher, that to prize


Beauty of flower or song or mistress fair,


Is to forgo the sweets of Paradise.






Say not, ‘Life’s pleasance is a deathly snare:


Shun it, so would’st thou save thy soul alive;


Blind thee, & in drear temple pray & strive’.






Know thou, all gladness is God’s house of grace;


All loveliness is thy Belovéd’s face;


All beauteous earth is Heav’n’s gay garden-ground.






To love the rose, the fair, the gladsome bird,


Life’s lovely bliss, wherever it be found,


To love love’s truth from whomsoever heard,






This is their faith, who see with seeing eyes,


Their worship & their endless Paradise.










28










What madness ’twas, I know not, that thus enchanted me;


What wine, nor who the bringer, nor wherefore enter’d he.






—Lament no more, O full heart, thy love so close confin’d!


O rosebud, ope thy glory, thy beauty nought shall bind!






Behold the flower-fill’d meadows; thou too, O wistful Dear,


Take in thine hand the goblet, & lend to me thine ear!






Lo, for our wintry sorrow I hold the certain cure!


Lo, stern fate kneels before us! Lo, rapture evermore!






—What madness ’twas I know not, that thus entrancéd me;


What wine, nor who the bearer, nor whither vanished he.










29










She went.—O whither too, O one true love,


Went my sad heart, thou knowest. Lo my prayer


Followeth thee, & faith that nought may move.






With prayer I came, & now with pleading strong


I leave thee, that my flinchless trust thou share;


So shall God aid us, who to him belong.






Though all earth censure me, by Heaven I swear,


Though tyranny me test with trial untold,


No torments shall enwaver me, nor fear.






Though pleasure her most dazzling joys forth hold,


& luring musics to enravish me,


Thee only see I, thee hear, only thee






I follow:—thou who trav’lest love’s long road


Knowest that there no rest is, nor abode.










30










I said, ‘O heavenly Leader, O truth’s day,


Guide thou this wanderer’. He said, ‘In quest


Of his own pleasure did thy wand’rer stray’.






I pleaded, ‘Bide with me’. He answer’d, ‘Nay,


Unmeet were thy cold couch & cheerless rest


For me, soft-nurtur’d: vain is thy request.






The royal-born, how hardly may endure


After pomp’s luxury & silk array,


Thy mean provisioning, thy dwelling poor’.






Again I prayed, ‘O all life’s Sun, O true


Light-giver, to our darkling earth return’.


He said, ‘Pray not thus: since not ev’n my few






Dare to behold me, strange ’twere not, nor new,


That a poor wand’rer’s wilder’d heart should burn’.










31










Where is the pious doer? & I the estray’d one, where?


Behold how far the distance, from his safe home to here!






Dark is the stony desert, trackless & vast & dim,


Where is hope’s guiding lantern? Where is faith’s star so fair?






My heart fled from the cloister, & chant of monkish hymn,


What can avail me sainthood, fasting & punctual prayer?






What is the truth shall light me to heav’n’s strait thoroughfare?


Whither, O heart, thus hastest? Arrest thee & beware!






See what a lone adventure is thine unending quest!


Fraught with what deadly danger! Set with what unseen snare!






Say not, O friend, to Hafez, ‘Quiet thee now & rest!’


Calm & content, what are they? Patience & peace, O where?










32










I said, ‘Thou knowest, O all-knowing Friend,


My trouble for thee’. He said ‘Speak not so:


Thy sorrow came; thy sorrow too shall go.’






I said, ‘O light of Truth, when wilt thou spend


Thy radiance?’ Answer heard I, ‘It may be


This will not alway be denied to thee.’






I said, ‘O Merciful, when wilt to me


Show mercy?’ He replied ‘Till that time is


Endure thou patiently my tyrannies.’






I said again, ‘All-seeing, who dost see


How long is pain, behold’st thou not then too


How short sweet joy was?’—Answer’d he anew,






‘Be not thus comfortless, but comprehend:


Ev’n as thy joys, thy sorrows too shall end.’










33










My heart the chamber of His musing is,


Mine eye the mirror of His beauty’s face,


My hand the servant of His purposes.






I, who to neither wealth nor worldly place


Incline, nor to religion’s promised ease,


Bend low beneath the burden of His grace.






Since all I have is of His bounty given,


So is my poor pride but in His proud name,


His humble service is my hoped-for Heaven.






Nor shun I men’s despite & trampling sneer,


Nor heed their slander, nor the infamous fame


Of their blind censure; nay nor do I fear






Death’s last defilement: though I pass in shame,


Bright worlds His immortality proclaim.










34










Fair is the leisure of life’s garden-ground:


Pleasant is friendship’s voice & mirth’s soft sound.






Sweet are the perfumed flowers; yea, yea, what bliss


Sootheth like hope’s fresh scent of loveliness?






Lovely, O nightingale, is thy lament;


Ever to listening love thy plaint is dear;


In the fond thought of love thy life is spent.






Though in this world joy’s goal is but a name,


Fair is thy fadeless hope, blest wanderer,


Beauteous its gentle fire & flickering flame.






From the pure lily heard I this clear song:


‘Happy their peaceful life who work no wrong;






Sweet idle flowers, whom heav’n’s sweet airs do kiss;


No conqu’ring king hath joy more fair than this.’










35










Thus spake at dawn to the fresh-open’d rose


The courting-bird, ‘Cease thy so empty vaunt:


Comelier than thou full many each day unclose.’






She laughed:—‘In truth I care not, ne’ertheless


Strange lover thou, to use such harsh address:


No gallant vexeth beauty with such taunt.






Or ever thou receive this ruby red,


This wine, first must thy pearl’d disdainfulness


In passion’s suppliant sea its jewels shed.’






O vain it were love’s chanting voice to chide!


Though may no tongue those burning thoughts expound,


The ardent fire of love no heart can hide.






In his all-whelming tears hath Hafez drowned


Wisdom & patience, yet no peace hath found.










36










Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still:


Though her bright glance should wander, though it err


& wound me, it shall be forgiven her;


Yea, lov’d is the Belovéd though she kill.






Though should love’s light’ning ravage & consume


Faith’s harvest, & the garner of the wise,


Reproach not nor upbraid her: those bright eyes


Have right all to destroy, that all illume.






Betwixt love’s roses should no sharpness be:


Though not uncruel, not unblameworthy


Wast thou, O sweet Love, blame thou only my


Blemish, let not remorse endolour thee.






Yea, censure not afflicting love: thy part


Is but forgiveness, O long-patient heart!










37










Arise, O cup-bearer, & bring


Fresh wine for our enrapturing!


O minstrel, of our sorrow sing—


‘O joy of whose delight we dreamed,


O love that erst so easy seemed,


What toil is in thy travelling!’






How in the lov’d one’s tent can I


Have any rest or gaiety?


Ever anon the horsemen cry,


‘O lingering lover, fare thee well!’


Ever I hear the jingling bell


Of waiting steed & harnessry.






O seeker who wouldst surely bring


To happy end thy wandering,


O learner who wouldst truly know,


Let not earth’s loves arrest thee. Go!


Mad thee with heaven’s pure wine & fling


To those clear skies thy rapturing.










38










Our toil is He, & eke our journey’s end;


Our life-long ailment & our remedy,


Our foeman & our ever-pitying friend;






Who is more vanquishing than victory,


Fairer than beauty, more belov’d than life;


This is he who our peace is & our strife.






Our strenuous earth is He & eke our Heaven,


The crown of conquest & the armour riven,


The strength, the struggle, yea, the failing even.






Of Him all is, & unto Him also


Doth all return: torment & yearning woe


Surely shall pass, even as pleasures go.






Yea, all have end, beggar & bountied king,


Rapture & tears, resting & wandering.










INDEX OF FIRST LINES








NO.



 



When sunlight faileth
1



 



I called to fading day
2



 



O youth’s young cloudlet, O freshness free
3



 



Wend I, wander I, past all worlds that be
4



 



Eyes that o’er the landscape fly
5



 



O what availeth thee thy melting mood
6



 



All things born to break
7



 



If there be any power in passion’s prayer
8



 



In love’s great ocean, whose calm-shelter’d shore
9



 



When sorrow hath outsoar’d our nature’s clime
10



 



O gentle weariness
11



 



Peace, for whose presence we did erewhile call
12



 



Beauty is a waving tree
13



 



Wheresoever beauty flies
14



 



When first to earth thy gentle spirit came
15



 



For sake of these two splendours do the wise
16



 



She hath not beauty, that ill-fortun’d gem
17



 



When thou art gone, & when are gone all those
18



 



Play thou on men as on a harp’s string
19



 



Go, book: go, vessel laden with the mind
20



 



When the strong climber his last mountain-crest
21



 



Since neither man’s proud pomp & kingly name
22



 



Pureness of pale moon, loneness of far skies
23



 


 


After Hafez


 



I saw fair Fortune, one clear morning, touch
24



 



Come let us drink & deeply drown
25



 



Once more, O happy hill & peaceful plain
26



 



Tell me not, mournful Preacher, that to prize
27



 



What madness ’twas, I know not, that thus enchanted me
28



 



She went.—O whither too, O one true love
29



 



I said, ‘O heavenly Leader, O truth’s day
30



 



Where is the pious doer? & I the estray’d one, where?
31



 



I said, ‘Thou knowest, O all-knowing Friend
32



 



My heart the chamber of His musing is
33



 



Fair is the leisure of life’s garden-ground
34



 



Thus spake at dawn to the fresh-open’d rose
35



 



Though beauty’s tress be strayed, ’tis beauteous still
36



 



Arise, O cup-bearer, & bring
37



 



Our toil is He, & eke our journey’s end
38