Ode 564

BRING wine into the garden, on the brink
Of the cool fountain set the pillows so:
Roses to scatter, and red wine to drink—
I do not know
If there be more to ask. What dost thou think?

Thus to the nightingale the young rose spake,
And thus the nightingale made answer meet:
O little rose-tree, tell me for whose sake
Thou smellest so sweet?
Who from thy bough shall all these blossoms shake?

Walk in the garden, that the cypress may
Learn from the box-tree of thy perfect grace
In the wind's arms voluptuously to sway;
O little face,
Why didst thou steal a great man's heart away!

Rosebud—thou art too young to call a rose!—
I would, while yet the merchants throng to buy,
Thou madest provision, ere thy beauty goes;
Yea! ere it die
Gather thy pennies, sweetheart—HAFIZ knows!

Hast seen a candle in the way of the wind?
Beauty is so before the breath of time;
If only thou couldst be a little kind,
Sweet were this rhyme
As all that musk of China—thy locks untwined.

All birds in the rose-garden of the king
Come singing—each one hath a different tale:
HAFIZ, what song is it that thou dost sing,
Dread nightingale?
HAFIZ hath nothing but a prayer to bring.