The new Moon's silver sickle, and the Night's starfields I saw;
And, for my own life's reaping time, fell on my spirit awe.
"Awake, awake, good Genius!" I cried; "look, here's the sun!"
"Woe's me!" -- "Nay!" spake he sweetly: "the deeds which thou hast done 
Are done. Have thou no terrors! Say, `Settle all accounts, 
Earth! with this corpse I leave thee, while my glad spirit mounts.' 
Say `Sky! boast not thy starry pomp! we who God's Sufis be,
Sell moonbeams at a barleycorn, and the Pleiades for three!' "