The rose, sans the check of the Friend, is not goodly;
Sans wine, the Spring season to spend is not goodly.

Without yonder tulip-cheeked loveling, the air
Of the garden or eke the field-end is not goodly.

The sugar-lipped, rose-limbed Beloved, without
Or kiss or embracement, to tend is not goodly.

Rose-rapture or cypress's dancing, — except
The nightingale's note with them blend, — is not goodly

Excepting the semblant it be of the fair,
Each figure that Reason hath penned is not goodly.

Sweet wine is and garden and rose; and yet each,
Withouten the face of the Friend, is not goodly.

O Hafiz, that base-metal coinage, thy soul,
As strewage on her to expend is not goodly.