Vainly too the violet pleaded, ‘Are no other blossoms fair?’
Since the only potent rival of the rose tree is the vine,
Let me drown my hopeless passion in the Seven Seas of wine.
‘Hafiz, I conjure thee, from the rose tree pluck thy heart away.’
Lo, the message is delivered, and the bearer speeds away.
FALLEN ANGELS.
’Tis written in the Writing how a pair
Of angels dwelt with children of the dust,