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The breath will no more back again;
One soul the other binding,

Into thy luck a viewless strain,

An odor-waft is winding.

Thou hast, when fierce the moment burns,

To thy cup-bearer beckon'd;

He runs, thou graspest, he returns,
The first time and the second.

His eye
is bright, his heart is tense
With hope to hear thy teaching,
To know thee in thy highest sense

When wine thy soul is reaching.

The worlds throw wide to him their room,
With rest and order wooing,
A swelling breast and downy bloom
Return, his youth renewing.

And when no secret's hid from thee
The heart and world can reckon,
Thou dost all thinkers glad and free
Into thy meaning beckon.

That from the throne a princely horde

May never disappear,

The Shah thou givest a good word,

And givest the Vizier.

All this thou know'st and sing'st to-day, Wilt sing again to-morrow:

Thou 'rt friendly guidance on our way

Through life's attemper'd sorrow.

BOOK OF LOVE.

SAY to me,

What is my heart's dream?

My heart is with thee; Hold it in esteem.

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