And wing'd, from Ashes wilt thou fairer rise;
And with Love's highest Message soar, to Love.
Assimilation
XXIII
New Sword from Maker's Hand, in Edge and Point all bright;
See that in dirty Scabbard, it rust not, out of Sight!
Gold that in Miser's Coffer, in Blackness meanly lay,
Upon the Shah's Throne gleaming, becomes a World's Delight.
When full Clouds pour the Rain-drops, lo! every glad Tree drinks;
Fruits redden on the Apple tree, as Leaves grow pale in Fright.