I will give one of his rhymes which will show the spirit of his mysticism: "Gar Kasi wasf ou Zman Posad, bidil oz binishon chiguyan baz, ashikon kushtagon mashookand, bar nayayad Z kooshtagon awaz." The thirteenth century was one of the most brilliant in the annals of Persian poetry. The greatest seer of the era was Sheikh Musli Eddin Sahdie of Shiraz who died in the year 1291. He stands unrivaled as Persia's foremost didactic poet. His Boston and Guliston--"the fruit of the garden and roses,"--are universally known and loved in Europe. At the beginning of the fourteenth century we made several meritorious imitations of Sahdi in didactic poetry. But far above all these as above all other Persian lyrical and erratic poets shines Hafiz. The "Sugar Lip" is a book in which he sang of wine and love, nightingale and flowers, bee and roses. Below is given a quotation from one of his poems about the nightingale and the miller: "Ai morgh saher ashk zparwana beyamoz, Kan sukhtara jan shud wawaz nayamab" translation: "O thou the bird of morning, you must learn love from the miller. It burned itself in the fire but did not make any noise." Haji Mollah Kozim translated this rhyme as follows: "The morning bird is the nightingale--little smaller than the sparrow, but it has a very loud voice as clear as a golden bell." All poets in Persia agree that it is a better singer than any other bird in Asia. Besides his singing he is the bird that has more love for his mate than any other bird in the world. They generally sing in the morning and the evening time. When the female is on her nest the male sits in the same tree, or very near, and sings for his mate. At times the male sits on the nest and his mate perched near by sings for him in a wonderfully sweet voice. The nightingale is a general favorite, and many popular songs have been written about this bird, and are sung by nearly every young man and young lady, boy and girl in Persia. This author says of the miller that it loves light more than any other insect. From its love of light it throws itself into the fire, as everyone has seen in America of a summer evening about an electric lamp. Sahdi takes this example for himself to illustrate his love to God. He says the love of the miller is more than the love of the nightingale because the nightingale shows its love by singing and making noise; but the miller, though it has a living body, makes no noise when it is burning in the fire. "So," says he, "ought to be my love to God."