"With me along some Strip of Herbage strown That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known, And pity Sultán Mahmúd on his Throne."

"With me along the strip of Herbage strown That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot — And Peace to Mahmud on his golden Throne!"

"Well, let it take them! What have we to do With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru? Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they will, Or Hatim call to Supper — heed not you."

"Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — And Wilderness is Paradise enow."

"A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness — Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!"

""How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"—think some: Others — "How blest the Paradise to come!" Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest; Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!"

"Some for the Glories of This World; and some Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!"

"The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon Turns Ashes — or it prospers; and anon, Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face Lighting a little Hour or two — is gone."

"And those who husbanded the Golden Grain, And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain, Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd As, buried once, Men want dug up again."

"Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp Abode his Hour or two, and went his way."

"They say the Lion and the Lizard keep The Courts where Jamshýd gloried and drank deep: And Bahrám, that great Hunter—the Wild Ass Stamps o'er his Head, and he lies fast asleep."

"Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep."

"Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp Abode his destined Hour, and went his way."

"I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head."

"I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head."

"Ah! my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears To-day of past Regrets and future Fears — To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years."

"And this reviving Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean — Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!"

"Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to Rest."

"For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest."

"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!"

"Alike for those who for prepare, And those that after some stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There.""

"Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once has blown for ever dies."

"Of threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! One thing at least is certain — This Life flies."

"Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so learnedly — are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust."

"Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so wisely — they are thrust."

"Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument About it and about: but evermore Came out by the same door as in I went."

"Came out by the same Door where in I went."

"With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd— "I came like Water, and like Wind I go.""

"With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow; And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd — "I came like Water, and like Wind I go.""

"Into this Universe, and why not knowing, Nor whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing: And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing."

"What, without asking, hither hurried whence? And, without asking, whither hurried hence! Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence!"

"Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence!"

"Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate."

"There was a Door to which I found no Key: There was a Veil past which I could not see: Some little Talk awhile of and There seemed — and then no more of and ."

"There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was the Veil through which I might not see: Some little talk awhile of and There was — and then no more of and ."

"Then of the works behind The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard, As from Without — "!""

"Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd — "While you live Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return.""

"For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all obliterated Tongue It murmur'd—"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!""

"Ah, fill the Cup: — what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn and dead , Why fret about them if be sweet!"

"One Moment in Annihilation's Waste, One moment, of the Well of Life to taste — The Stars are setting, and the Caravan Starts for the dawn of Nothing — Oh, make haste!"

"For "" and "" though with Rule and Line, And, "Up-and-down" without, I could define, I yet in all I only cared to know, Was never deep in anything but — Wine."

"Perplext no more with Human or Divine, To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign, And lose your fingers in the tresses of The Cypress — slender Minister of Wine."

"And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press End in what All begins and ends in — Yes; Think then you are To-day what Yesterday You were — To-morrow You shall not be less."

"The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute."

"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?"

"'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest."

"And fear not lest Existence closing your Account, and mine, should know the like no more; The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour."

"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."

"A Moment's Halt — a momentary taste Of from the Well amid the Waste — And Lo! — the phantom Caravan has reach'd The it set out from — Oh, make haste!"

"'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, And one by one back in the Closet lays."