Ode 79

No one has seen thy face; a thousand eyes
Are watching for the rising of thy veil;
Rosebud, full many a foolish nightingale
Waits thine appearance with impatient sighs.

It is no wonder that I haunt thy door;
Though far away indeed from thee I seem,
That some day thou wilt love me is my dream—
Alas! it is the dream of many more.

Love is a church where all religions meet;
Islam, or Christ, or Tavern, it is one;
Thy face of every system is the sun—
O Sun that shines in the Beloved's street.

Where Love is there 's no need of convent bell,
And holy living needs no holy frocks;
Time ticks not to your monastery clocks;
Where goodness is there God must be as well.

Known to the Well-Beloved my sorrow must be,
And all this anguish I suffer for her sake.
For every other agony and ache
Doctor there is—she will my doctor be.

HAFIZ, God knows! not coward is thy cry;
Reason enough there is for each sad word;
If only thou wert certain that she heard!
So many a song is wasted on the sky.