To me, this poem of Rumi illustrates two things: firstly, that the real Saints or Masters are the door to the Ocean of Intoxication, and secondly, that service of others is the highest act.
Here is another lovely poem by Rabindranath Tagore:
There is a lovely poem which I once heard from my Master, Kirpal (1894-1974) when Maulana Rumi spoke to disciples of his impending death.
When I die, take my body and cut it into pieces;
Spread it as manure on the field.
In that field, plant grain, and when ripe, gather it;
Then grind into flour, and bake it into bread;
Not those who eat that bread,
But those who serve it,
Shall have divine intoxication!