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Then said a Second - 'Ne'er a peevish Boy Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy, And He that with his hand the Vessel made Will surely not in after Wrath destroy'.
Omar Khayyam -
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and - sans End!
Omar Khayyam
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Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang, Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
Omar Khayyam -
The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, But Here or There as strikes the Player goes; And He that toss'd you down into the Field, He knows about it all - He knows - HE knows!
Omar Khayyam -
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were't not a Shame - were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide?
Omar Khayyam -
Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot - I think a Sufi pipkin-waxing hot - 'All this of Pot and Potter - Tell me then, Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?'
Omar Khayyam -
When You and I behind the Veil are past, Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last, Which of our Coming and Departure heeds As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.
Omar Khayyam -
Said one among them - 'Surely not in vain My substance of the common Earth was ta'en And to this Figure moulded, to be broke, Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again'.
Omar Khayyam
-
Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To flutter - and the Bird is on the Wing.
Omar Khayyam -
Yon rising Moon that looks for us again - How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; How oft hereafter rising look for us Through this same Garden - and for one in vain!
Omar Khayyam -
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore - but was I sober when I swore? And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.
Omar Khayyam -
Oh, Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!
Omar Khayyam -
But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days; Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays.
Omar Khayyam -
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire, And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire, Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
Omar Khayyam