Ode 253

FORGET not, O my heart, thine ancient friends:

The sweet old faithful faces of the dead,

Old meetings and old partings—all that ends;

So loved, so vivid, and so vanishèd:

Forget not, O my heart, thine ancient friends.

The times are faithless, but remember thou

Those that have loved thee, though they love no more;

Thou unto them art dim and distant now;

Still love them for the love they gave before—

The times are faithless, but remember thou.

And the red wine remember, and the rose,

And the old cry at dawn, the stream that ran—

In Paradise no sweeter river flows—

Through banks of gardens on to Ispahan:

Yes! the red wine remember, and the rose.

The dead who kept our secrets remember well;

They forgot much—we should not them forget:

Ah! HAFIZ, now they 're gone, no man can tell

Thy secret: it remains a secret yet.