"From earth arise bright colors, scent, and food, To please the eye, the brain, and hunger’s mood. Bees honey give, sweet dew the heavens shed, The dates from palms, and trees from seeds are bred. Gnawing his hand, each gardener shows despair: For who but He can make the world so fair? The sun, the moon, the Pleiades on high,— Thy chandeliers; thy palace roof, the sky! The rose from thorns, and musk from bags He brings; Gold from the mines, a leaf from dry wood springs. His own hand drew thine eye and brow so fair; A friend one cannot leave to other’s care. That mighty One, who hath so cherished thee With blessings varied as the colored sea,— In praising him, our lives we ought to spend: Our tongues can’t count his virtues without end. O God! my heart is blood, sore wounds mine eyes: For, lo! I see thy praise beyond me lies. I say not beasts and ants and flies thee praise, But angel hosts, amazed, their hands upraise! Although by all the world thy praise is rung, Ten thousand thousands yet remain unsung. Saadi, depart! thy pen and paper quit; Take not that road which has no end to it!"