es ever more delightful fragrancies.

XXXIX

For as a gate of sorrow-land unbars
The region of unfaltering delight,
So may you gather from the fields of night
That harvest of diviner thought, the stars.

XL

Send into banishment whatever blows
Across the waves of your tempestuous heart;
Let every wish save Allah's wish depart,
And you will have ineffable repose.

XLI

My faith it is that all the wanton pack
Of living shall be--hush, poor heart!--withdrawn,
As even to the camel comes a dawn
Without a burden for his wounded back.

XLII

If there should be some truth in what they teach
Of unrelenting Monkar and Nakyr,
Before whose throne all buried men appear--
Then give me to the vultures, I beseech.

XLIII

Some yellow sand all hunger shall assuage
And for my thirst no cloud have need to roll,
And ah! the drooping bird which is my soul
No longer shall be prisoned in the cage.

XLIV

Life is a flame that flickers in the wind,
A bird that crouches in the fowler's net--
Nor may between her flutterings forget
That hour the dreams of youth were unconfined.

XLV

There was a time when I was fain to guess
The riddles of our life, when I would soar
Against the cruel secrets of the door,
So that I fell to deeper loneliness.

XLVI

One is behind the draperies of life,
One who will tear these tanglements away--
No dark assassin, for the dawn of day
Leaps out, as leapeth laughter, from the knife.

XLVII

If you will do some deed before you die,
Remember not this caravan of death,
But have belief that every little breath
Will stay with you for an eternity.

XLVIII

Astrologers!--give ear to what they say!
"The stars be words; they float on heaven's breath
And faithfully reveal the days of death,
And surely will reveal that longer day."

XLIX

I shook the trees of knowledge. Ah! the fruit
Was fair upon the bleakness of the soil.
I filled a hundred vessels with my spoil,
And then I rested from the grand pursuit.

L

Alas! I took me servants: I was proud
Of prose and of the neat, the cunning rhyme,
But all their inclination was the crime
Of scattering my treasure to the crowd.

LI

And yet--and yet this very seed I throw
May rise aloft, a brother of the bird,
Uncaring if his melodies are heard--
Or shall I not hear anything below?

LII

The glazier out of sounding Erzerum,
Frequented us and softly