Each flower that yields to sense agreeable perfume, Speaks volumes to saint’s heart with its mysterious tongue. Each perfume from a flower rubs atheist’s nose in dirt; Although he rush about, and boundless nonsense spirt. 120 An atheist’s like a chafer clinging to rosebud, Or like a nervous patient tortured by drum’s thud. He makes himself as fussy as each touting wight; But shuts his eyes to flashes of conviction’s light. He shuts his eyes perversely, with them will not see. The saint, on other hand, ’s clear-sighted certainly. The Prophet, when returned home from the funeral, Found ‘Ā’isha was waiting, him to welcome all. So when her eyes fell on him, just as in he came, She him approached, and on him hand placed; gentle dame. 125 She touched his turban, cloak and coat, his sleeves and shoes, His hair and beard, his face and hands, peering for news. He asked her what she sought with so much eager zeal. She answered him: “To-day of rain there’s fallen a deal. I’m lost in wonderment to feel thou art not wet; No dampness is there here. I marvel still more yet.” He asked: “What veil worest thou God’s service to fulfil?”[267] She answered: “I a plaid of thine threw o’er my frill.” He said: “That plaid it was for which the Lord, to thee, My lady pure, a shower caused visible to be. 130 That shower was not of raindrops from the clouds that fall; A shower of mercy ’twas; its cloud and sky, His call.” [“In regions of the soul so many skies are there![268] They issue their commands to spheres of earth and air. The ups and downs in spirit’s path form quite a class; So many hills to climb; so many seas to pass.”]—_Sanā’ī._ The unseen world has other clouds, and other skies;[269] Its sun is different; its water God supplies. Its rain proceeds from other clouds than does our own. God’s mercy ’tis that forms that rain when it pours down. 135 Those rains are never seen, save by the eyes of saints. Mere men “by new creation puzzled,”[270] judge them feints.