From Eastern Sources

I.

In youth my hair was black as night,
My life as white as driven snow:
As white as snow my hair is now,
And that is black which once was white.

II.

No wonder Sajib wrote such verses, when
He had the bill of nightingale for pen;
Or that his lyrics were divine
Whose only ink was tears and wine.

III.

A poor dwarf's figure, looming through the dense
Mists of a mountain, seemed a shape immense,
On seeing which, a giant, in dismay,
Took to his heels and ran away.