The souls love-moved are circling on, Like streams to their great Ocean King. Thou art the Sun of all men's thoughts; Thy kisses are the flowers of spring. The dawn is pale from yearning Love; The moon in tears is sorrowing. Thou art the Rose, and deep for Thee, In sighs, the nightingales still sing. THE BELOVED ALL IN ALL My Soul sends up to Heaven each night the cry of Love! God's starry Beauty draws with might the cry of Love! Bright sun and moon each morn dance in my Heart at Dawn: And waking me at daylight, excite the cry of Love! On every meadow glancing, I see God's sun-beams play; And all Creation's wonders excite the cry of Love! * * * * * * * *¨* * * * * * * I, All in All becoming, now clear see God in All; And up from Union yearning, takes flight the cry of Love! "THOU AND I" Happy the moment when we are seated in the Palace, thou and I, With two forms and with two figures but with one soul, thou and I. The colours of the grove and the voice of the birds will bestow immortality At the time when we come into the garden, thou and I. The stars of heaven will come to gaze upon us; We shall show them the moon itself, thou and I. Thou and I, individuals no more, shall be mingled in ecstasy, Joyful, and secure from foolish babble, thou and I. All the bright-plumed birds of heaven will devour their hearts with envy In the place where we shall laugh in such a fashion, thou and I. This is the greatest wonder, that thou and I, sitting here in the same nook, Are at this moment both in Irāq and Khorasan, thou and I. [Footnote 1: The celestial Venus, and leader of the starry choirs to music. See R. A. Nicholson's note in _Selected Poems from the Dīvāni Shamsi Tabrīz._] [Footnote 2: A design traced in henna.] SELECTIONS FROM THE "MASNAVI" SORROW QUENCHED IN THE BELOVED Through grief my days are as labour and sorrow, My days move on, hand in hand with anguish. Yet, though my days vanish thus, 'tis no matter, Do Thou abide, O Incomparable Pure One. THE MUSIC OF LOVE Hail to thee, then, O LOVE, sweet madness! Thou who healest all our infirmities! Who art the Physician of our pride and self conceit! Who art our Plato and our Galen! Love exalts our earthly bodies to heaven, And makes the very hills to dance with joy! O lover, 'twas Love that gave life to Mount Sinai, When "it quaked, and Moses fell down in a swoon." Did my Beloved only touch me with His lips, I too, like a flute, would burst out into melody. "WHEN THE ROSE HAS FADED"