The sleep of that seductive eye Of thine is not for nought;
That tress's curl, thus blown awry, Of thine is not for nought.

Yet from thy lip the mother's milk Ran, when, " This sugar, strewn
About that salt-box mouth, " quoth I, " Of thine is not for nought. "

Source of life's water is thy mouth; But on the brink thereof
The pit, that in that chin doth lie Of thine, is not for nought.

Long mayst thou live, although too well I know the eyelash-shaft,
That lurks within that eyebrow-bow Of thine, is not for nought.

With parting's grief and misery And pain thou stricken art,
O heart; this wail and moan and sigh Of thine is not for nought.

A wind from out her street last night Passed o'er the rosegarden.
O rose, that collar, rent in twy, Of thine is not for nought.

Hafiz, although the heart the pangs Of love from the folk's sight
Hold hidden, yet this weeping eye Of thine is not for nought.