If the beloved face thou canst not see
Within thy heart still cherish thy desire;
And if her love she will not grant to thee,
In thy love never tire.
Although her face be hidden from thy sight,
Within the sanctuary of thy heart
Still keep her image for thine own delight,
Hidden apart.
And if the Keeper of the Garden dose
Before your face the inexorable gate,
O linger yet! The perfume of the rose
Will float to you, and find you as you wait
Not all disconsolate.