For the star-pale narcissus to adore.
The long-drawn tyranny of grief shall pass,
Parting shall end in meeting, the lament
Of the sad bird that sang “Alas, alas!”
Shall reach the rose in her red-curtained tent.
Forth from the mosque! the tavern calls to me!
Would’st hinder us? The preacher’s homily
Is long, but life will soon be spent!
Ah, foolish Heart! the pleasures of To-day,
If thou abandon, will To-morrow stand