BOOK OF CONTEMPLATION.
WHAT makes time short to me?
What makes it long and spiritless?
What brings us to debt?
To delay and forget!
What makes us succeed?
Decision with speed
How to fame to ascend?
Oneself to defend!
FOR woman due allowance make!
Form'd of a crooked rib was she,--
By Heaven she could not straightened
Attempt to bend her, and she'll break;
If left alone, more crooked grows madam;
What well could be worse, my good friend, Adam?--
For woman due allowance make;
'Twere grievous, if thy rib should break!
OH world, with what baseness and guilt
thou art rife!
Thou nurtures, trainest, and illest
He only whom Allah doth bless with
Is train'd and is nurtured with riches and life.
THE mirror tells me, I am fair!
Thou sayest, to grow old my fate will
Nought in God's presence changeth e'er,--
Love him, for this one moment, then,