Thousand dangers of ruin has the street of love
Believe not that death frees thee from all
Hafiz

His learning truly lifted Hafiz to Heaven
But his love of thee has brot him to the dust
Hafiz

The way of love is unlimited
The soul is there sacrificed
There is no other way.

Scare me not with reason
Bring wine. Since Reason as watchman
Has nothing here to do

When thou givest thy heart to love
Tis good time tis a good thing
Use no counsel first

Who smote me? Ask thine eye,
O sweet child, let this not lie
As guilt against my Destiny

As the new moon needs a sharp eye
So thou an intelligent one; not every one

Secretly to love & to drink, what is it? tis a dissolute day's work.
I side with the open drunkards, be it as it may.
Loose the knots of the heart & cumber thee no farther for the lot
No geometer has yet disentangled this confusion.
At the trade & changes of Time wonder not;
The like enchantments keeps Destiny ready.
Hold the glass discreetly, it was put together
Of the skulls of Jamschid, Keikobad, & Behmen,
Who teaches us where Kai was & Nimrod are gone
How the throne of Jamschid fell in pieces at last

Art thou wise, four things resign, —
Love, & loneness, sloth, and wine.
Hafiz

I have borne the anguish of love, which ask me not to describe:
I have tasted the poison of absence, which ask me not to relate.

Far through the world have I roved, and at length I have chosen
A sweet creature, a ravisher of hearts, whose name ask me not to disclose.

The flowings of my tears bedew her footsteps
In such a manner as ask me not to utter.

On yesterday night from her own mouth with my own ears I heard
Such words, as pray ask me not to repeat.

Why dost thou bite thy lip at me? What dost thou hint?

Love scorns degrees; the low he lifteth high,
The high he draweth down to that fair plain
Whereon, in his divine equality,
Two loving hearts may meet, nor meet in vain;
'Gainst such sweet levelling Custom cries amain,
But o'er its harshest utterance one bland sigh,
Breathed passion-wise, doth mount victorious still,
For Love, earth's lord, must have his lordly will.

The love of men for each other — so tender, heroic, constant;
That has come all down the ages, in every clime, in every nation,
Always so true, so well assured of itself, overleaping barriers of age, of rank, of distance,
Flag of the camp of Freedom;
The love of women for each other — so rapt, intense, so confiding-close, so burning-passionate,
To unheard deeds of sacrifice, of daring and devotion, prompting;
And (not less) the love of men for women, and of women for men — on a newer greater scale than it has hitherto been conceived;

Some say Love,
Foolish Love,
Doth rule and govern all the gods:
I say Love,
Inconstant Love,
Sets men's senses far at odds.
Some swear Love,
Smooth-fac'd Love,
Is sweetest sweet that men can have:
I say Love,
Sour Love,
Makes virtue yield as beauty's slave:
A bitter sweet, a folly worst of all,
That forceth wisdom to be folly's thrall.

Love is sweet.
Wherein sweet?
In fading pleasures that do pain?
Beauty sweet,
Is that sweet,
That yieldeth sorrow for a gain?
If Love's sweet,
Herein sweet,

Through the shrubs as I can cracke,
For my Lambes pretty ones,
Mongst many little ones,
Nymphes I meane, whose haire was blacke,
As the Crow,
Like the snow,
Her face and browes shine I weene,
I saw a little one,
A bonny pretty one,
As bright, buxome, and as sheene,
As was she
On her knee,
That lulled the God, whose arrowes warmes,
Such merry little ones,
Such faire fac'de pretty ones,
As dally in loves chiefest harmes:
Such was mine,
Whose gray eyne
Made me love. I gan to woo
This sweet little one,