The Scented Garden

98 The Atheist. XXV THE ATHEIST Nor thou, Habib, nor I are glad when rosy limbs and swart entwine ; But rapture drowns the sense and self, the wine the drawer of the wine, And Him that planted first the grape1— o podex2, in thy vault there dwells A charm to make the member mad, And shake the marrow of the spine. O member, in thy stubborn strength a power avails on podex-sense To boil the blood in breast and brain ; shudder the nerves incarnadine !3 From me thou drawest pearly drink — and in its pourings both are drunk. The Imam4 drives forth the drunken man from out the marble prayer-shrine. Blue Mushtari5 strove with red Mirrikh which should be master of the night — But where is Mushtari, where Mirrikh when in the sky the sun doth shine ? Now El Qahar to Hafiz gives the worship unto poets due :6 — But songs are nought and Music all ; what poet music may define ?