Classic Poem

Of hearts disconsolate see to the state:
To bear a breaking heart may prove thy fate.

Help to be happy those thine aid can bless,
Mindful of thine own day of helplessness.

If thou at others' doors need'st not to pine
In thanks to Allah drive no man from thine.

Over the orphan's path protection spread!
Pluck out his heart-grief, lift his drooping head.

When with his neck bent low thou spiest one,
Kiss not the lifted face of thine own son!

Take heed these go not weeping. Allah's throne
Shakes to the sigh the orphan breathes alone.

With kindness wipe the tear-drop from his eye,
Cleanse him from dust of his calamity!

There was a merchant, who, upon his way—
Meeting one fatherless and lamed—did stay

To draw the thorn which pricked his foot; and passed:
And 'twas forgot: and the man died at last:

But in a dream the Prince of Khojand spies
That man again, walking in Paradise;

Walking and talking in the Blessed Land,
And what he said the Prince could understand:

For he said this: plucking the heavenly posies,
“Ajâb! that one Thorn made me many Roses!”