Classic Poem

If, one day, of us remembrance That thy musky reed do make,
Richer its account in heaven Slaves two hundred freed do make.

Lo, her highness Selma's courier, (Benediction on his head!)
What were it if he with greetings Glad our hearts ableed do make?

Lord, the heart of that sweet sovran, Of thy grace, do thou incline,
So she by Ferhad her passage, Pitying his need, do make!

My foundation have thy love-looks Rooted up: now let us see
What foundation these wiseacres, Th' old one to succeed, do make.

Thy pure essence independent Of our praise is: what increase
Is it to God-given beauty Tirers' skill and heed do make?

Do but prove how many a treasure Will They give thee of desire,
If a ruin such as I am Whole thy grace, indeed, do make.

Better than the pious practice Of an hundred years for kings
Is one hour when they with justice Happy those that plead do make.

Here in Shiraz Hafiz winneth Not his wish. Fair fall the day
When our pilgrimage Baghdad-ward We, it is decreed, do make!