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If ever it be vouchsafed me The hand in thy tress to twine
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Bring, wind of the East, an thou chance By the country to fare of the Friend
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Blest may the coming of the Feast, Cupbearer, be for thee
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'Twas a bulbul drank his heart's blook And a rose his own made
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What while there of wine and winehouse Name and trace shall still be
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Still the pearl of mystery's storehouse In the screen, as 'twas, is
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Lo, thine image from the tablet Of my heart and soul ne'er goeth
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Come, so may strength return To my heart contrite again
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Thy lashes black a thousand rents, Sweet, in this faith have frayed of mine
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A Lifetime 'tis that in Love's quest Each day I hither, thither fare
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