[467] 37

DULY in season comes the spring,

Where is the soul-awaking wine?

Roses around their perfumes fling,

Where is the bulbul’s song divine?

Roses bestrew the plain, and blue

Heaven outspreads its canopy;

The flowers have filled their cups with dew,

Where is the wine-cup filled for me?

Dewy and fresh the ambient air

Summons us out from cell and shrine;

Where is the bulbul’s song? and where

Loiters the hand that pours the wine?

Laughing the rose her charms displays,

Luring the bird to come and woo.

Oh, with what joy I’d stand and gaze

Were but my sovereign Rose in view.

NOTE.—The English metre is modelled on the Persian. See sixth example, No. 11.