LAST night I dreamed that angels stood without

The tavern door, and knocked in vain, and wept;

They took the clay of Adam, and, methought,

Moulded a cup therewith while all men slept.

Oh dwellers in the halls of Chastity!

You brought Love's passionate red wine to me,

Down to the dust I am, your bright feet stept.

For Heaven's self was all too weak to bear

The burden of His love God laid on it,

He turned to seek a messenger elsewhere,

And in the Book of Fate my name was writ.

Between my Lord and me such concord lies.

As makes the Huris glad in Paradise,

With songs of praise through the green glades they flit.

A hundred dreams of Fancy's garnered store

Assail me—Father Adam went astray

Tempted by one poor grain of corn! Wherefore

Absolve and pardon him that turns away

Though the soft breath of Truth reaches his ears,

For two-and-seventy jangling creeds he hears,

And loud-voiced Fable calls him ceaselessly.

That, that is not the flame of Love's true fire

Which makes the torchlight shadows dance in rings,

But where the radiance draws the moth's desire

And send him forth with scorched and drooping wings.

The heart of one who dwells retired shall break,

Rememb'ring a black mole and a red cheek,

And his life ebb, sapped at its secret springs.

Yet since the earliest time that man has sought

To comb the locks of Speech, his goodly bride,

Not one, like Hafiz, from the face of Thought

Has torn the veil of Ignorance aside.