Care-nothing sots, who've given The heart from hand, are we;
Cup-intimates and ádepts Of Passion's band are we.

Since with the Loved One's eyebrow We've solved our need, the butt
For many a bow of censure, By envy spanned, are we.

'Twas but last night, o rose-bud, Thou puttest on the brand
Of the dawn-draught; but tulips Born with the brand are we.

If vexed with our renouncement The Magian Elder be,
“Strain wine, for in excusement,” Tell him, “a-stand are we.”

To thee we look for furth'rance: Guide of the way, a glance!
So we may own that baffled And failure-banned are we.

Heed not our tulip-usance Of cup-holding; but see
Our bleeding hearts, how branded Of our own hand are we.

“What's all this play of fancy?” Sayst thou? Quoth Hafiz' verse,
“Read us aright and easy To understand are we.”