THOUGH gifts like thine the fates gave not to me,
One thing, O Hafiz, we both hold in fee
Nay, it holds us; for when the June wind blows
We both are slaves and lovers to the rose.
In vain the pale Circassian lily shows
Her face at her green lattice, and in vain
The violet beckons, with unveilëd face
The bosoms white, the lips light purple stain,
These touch our liking, yet no passion stir.
But when the rose comes, Hafizin that place
Where she stands smiling, we kneel down to her!
To Hafiz
written byThomas Bailey Aldrich
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich