غزل شمارهٔ 15

Rise! And upon the thirsty land sprinkle life’s wine with lavish hand; kindle anew the spirit’s fire, and bid the flame in us expire.

The tavern wine is drained and gone, the drinkers find oblivion; the school re-echoes to the shout, and every lamp has flickered out.

Reason’s a knot-resolving slave, faith mid convention’s laid to grave, for in the breast there beats a heart, the unseen target of love’s dart;

Both are in quest of one abode and both would lead upon the road: Reason tries every stratagem, but love pulls gently by the hem.

Love to the dust ruin hurled the tabernacle of the world, and stretches high his fingers, even unto the canopy of heaven.