My face in her way I laid, Who passage thereby made not;
Much favour I hoped; but me glad A glance of her eye made not.

O Lord, do thou have in Thy guard That reckless young loveling; since she
Provision to ward off the shaft Of th' anchorite's sigh made not.

The flood of our tears from her heart Hath rancour and malice not borne:
Impression upon the hard rock The rains of the sky made not

I purposed to die at her feet, Like the taper; but she, like the breeze
Of the dawning, her passage, whereas In dust we did lie, made not.

Who ever, though hardest of heart And witless, o soul, himself
A target and butt, for the shafts Of thy glances to ply, made not?

Fish and bird, yesternight, for the noise Of my groaning and wailing, slept not;
But a sign of uprising from sleep Yon wanton of eye made not

None, Hafiz, thy honey-sweet speech Yet heard, so bewitching it is,
That shift to commit it to heart, Or ever it fly, made not?