With a song of agony,
With a sweet, soft melody,
To a dying world athirst
Lo: life’s flagon I have burst.

In the way as beggars are
Thou hast set that world ajar
Ere the ambition to attain
Ever sprang in mortal brain.

‘Twas thy surmah-shaded eye
Heart and soul were ravished by;
O, the archery of it,
With one shaft two marks to hit!

What a springtime of delight
Greets my underserving sight!
Hear me in the meadow sing,
Like a new thrush caroling.

Not so strange, if monarchs, twain
In one kingdom cannot reign,
As that both the worlds are less
Than one dervish to possess.