Tag: Omar Khayyam
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.
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.
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare And those that after a TO-MORROW stare A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries “Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!”
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 Songs, sans Singer and – sand End!
And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom Ourselves must we beneath the Couch Of Earth Descend, ourselves to make a Couch – for whom?
Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and 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.
Oh, my Beloved, 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 delightful Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River’s Lip on which we lean – Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows From what once Lovely Lip it springs unseen!
I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled ; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in its Lap from some once Lovely Head.
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep ; And Bahram, that great Hunter – the Wild Ass Stamps o’er his Head, and he lies fast asleep.