Of the Sultan I would take
One gaze, if so I may;
Muslim I, I do not make
A god of clay.

See, the independent heart
That in my breast I bear
To the beggar doth impart
A regal air.

What doth on the tulip fall
Out of the starry sky,
O’er the verdant herbage all
Now scatter I.

Ranging through the Infinite
My thought begs never boon,
As the Pleiades crave light
From sun and moon.

But if any wandering sun
Toward my path should stray,
With a smile I make it run
Far from the way.

With the lustre and the flame
That Nature hath endowed
Like a lightning-flash
I gleam In a dark cloud.

Well I know the wont and way
Of them that rule, aloof
Joseph’s in the well, and they
Asses. on roof!