Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/168

132 But do the deed thy fellows hate,

And compromise thy peaceful state;

Smite the white breasts which thee fed,

Stuff sharp thorns beneath the head

Of them thou shouldst have comforted;

For out of woe and out of crime

Draws the heart a lore sublime."'

And yet it seemeth not to me

That the high gods love tragedy;

For Saadi sat in the sun,

And thanks was his contrition;

For haircloth and for bloody whips,

Had active hands and smiling lips;

And yet his runes he rightly read,

And to his folk his message sped.

Sunshine in his heart transferred

Lighted each transparent word,

And well could honoring Persia learn

What Saadi wished to say;

For Saadi's nightly stars did burn

Brighter than Jami's day.

Whispered the Muse in Saadi's cot:

O gentle Saadi, listen not,

Tempted by thy praise of wit,

Or by thirst and appetite

For the talents not thine own,

To sons of contradiction.

Never, son of eastern morning,