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| Awake!
for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught The Sultán's Turret in a Noose of Light. |
Wake!
For the Sun behind yon Eastern height
Has chased the Session of the Stars from Night, And, to the field of Heav'n ascending, strikes The Sultán's Turret with a Shaft of Light. |
Wake!
For the Sun who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night, Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes The Sultán's Turret with a Shaft of Light. |
Wake!
For the Sun, who scatter'd into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night, Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, and strikes The Sultán's Turret with a Shaft of Light. |
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| Dreaming
when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry," Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup" Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry." |
Before
the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried, "When all the Temple is prepared within, "Why lags the drowsy Worshipper outside?" |
Before
the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried, "When all the Temple is prepared within, "Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?" |
Before
the phantom of False morning died,
Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried, "When all the Temple is prepared within, "Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?" |
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| And,
as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door! "You know how little while we have to stay, "And, once departed, may return no more." |
And,
as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door! "You know how little while we have to stay, "And, once departed, may return no more." |
And,
as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door! "You know how little while we have to stay, "And, once departed, may return no more." |
And,
as the Cock crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted--"Open then the Door! "You know how little while we have to stay, "And, once departed, may return no more." |
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| Now
the New Year reviving old Desires.
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires. |
Now
the New Year reviving old Desires.
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires. |
Now
the New Year reviving old Desires.
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires. |
Now
the New Year reviving old Desires.
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires, Where the White Hand Of Moses on the Bough Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires. |
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| Iram
indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshýd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields, And still a Garden by the Water blows. |
Iram
indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshýd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby gushes from the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows. |
Iram
indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshýd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby gushes from the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows. |
Iram
indeed is gone with all his Rose,
And Jamshýd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby gushes from the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows. |
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| And
David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine! "Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose That yellow Cheek of hers to'incarnadine. |
And
David's lips are lockt; but in divine
High-piping Péhlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!" Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine. |
And
David's lips are lockt; but in divine
High-piping Péhlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!" Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine. |
And
David's lips are lockt; but in divine
High-piping Péhlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!" Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine. |
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| Come,
fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly--and lo! the Bird is on the Wing. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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| Whether
at Naishápúr or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. |
Whether
at Naishápúr or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. |
Whether
at Naishápúr or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run, The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. |
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| And
look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay: And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshýd and Kaikobád away. |
Morning
a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of yesterday? And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshýd and Kaikobád away. |
Each
Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday? And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobád away. |
Each
Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday? And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobád away. |
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| But
come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot! Let Rustum lay about him as he will, Or Hátim Tai cry Supper--heed them not. |
Well,
let it take them! What have we to do
With Kaikobád the Great, or Kaikhosrú? Let Rusturn cry "To Battle!" as he likes, Or Hátim Tai "To Supper!" --heed not you. |
Well,
let it take them! What have we to do
With Kaikobád the Great, or Kaikhosrú? Let Zál and Rustum thunder as they will, Or Hátim call to Supper--heed not you. |
Well,
let it take them! What have we to do
With Kaikobád the Great, or Kaikhosrú? Let Zál and Rustum bluster as they will, Or Hátim call to Supper--heed not you. |
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| With
me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known, And pity Sultán Máhmúd on his Throne. |
With
me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot -- And Peace to Máhmúd on his golden Throne! |
With
me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot -- And Peace to Máhmúd on his golden Throne! |
With
me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot -- And Peace to Máhmúd on his golden Throne! |
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| 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. |
Here
with a little Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness-- Oh, Wilderness were 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! |
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! |
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| "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 Promise go, Nor heed the 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! |
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! |
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| Were
it not Folly, Spider-like to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in! |
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| Look
to the Rose that blows about us--"Lo,
"Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow: "At once the silken Tassel of my Purse "Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." |
Look
to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
"Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow: "At once the silken tassel of my Purse "Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." |
Look
to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
"Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow: "At once the silken tassel of my Purse "Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." |
Look
to the blowing Rose about us--"Lo,
"Laughing," she says, "into the world I blow: "At once the silken tassel of my Purse "Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." |
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| 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. |
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--was gone. |
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--was gone. |
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. |
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| 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. |
For
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. |
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. |
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. |
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| 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. |
Think,
in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp Abode his destin'd Hour, and went his way. |
Think,
in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp Abode his destin'd Hour, and went his way. |
Think,
in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp Abode his destin'd Hour, and went his way. |
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| 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. |
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, but cannot break his Sleep. |
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, but cannot break his Sleep. |
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, but cannot break his Sleep. |
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| 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 Cæsar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head. |
I
sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head. |
I
sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head. |
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| 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! |
And
this delightful Herb whose living 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! |
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! |
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! |
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| The
Palace that to Heav'n his pillars threw,
And Kings the forehead on his threshold drew-- I saw the solitary Ringdove there, And "Coo, coo, coo," she cried; and "Coo, coo, coo." |
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| Ah,
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. |
Ah,
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. |
Ah,
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. |
Ah,
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. |
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| 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. |
For
some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time has 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 has 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, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest. |
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| 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? |
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? |
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? |
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? |
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| 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! |
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! |
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! |
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! |
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| 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!" |
Alike
for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after some TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries," Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!" |
Alike
for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after some TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries," Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!" |
Alike
for those who for TO-DAY prepare,
And those that after some TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries," Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!" |
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| 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 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 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 Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust. |
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| Oh,
come with old Khayyám, 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. |
Another
Voice, when I am sleeping, cries,
"The Flower should open with the Morning skies." And a retreating Whisper, as I wake-- "The Flower that once has blown for ever dies." |
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| 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. |
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. |
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 where in I went. |
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 where in I went. |
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| 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 my 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." |
With
them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my 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." |
With
them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my 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." |
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| 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. |
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. |
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. |
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. |
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| What,
without asking, hither hurried whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence! Another and another Cup to drown The Memory of this Impertinence! |
What,
without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! Ah, contrite Heav'n endowed us with the Vine To drug the memory of that insolence! |
What,
without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence! |
What,
without asking, hither hurried Whence?
And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence! |
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| Up
from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many Knots unravel'd by the Road; But not the Knot of Human Death and Fate. |
Up
from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, And many Knots unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate. |
Up
from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I 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. |
Up
from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I 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. |
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| 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 ME and THEE; There seem'd--and then no more of THEE, and ME. |
There
was the Door to which I found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I could not see: Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE There was--and then no more of THEE and ME. |
There
was the Door to which I found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I could not see: Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE There was--and then no more of THEE and ME. |
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 ME and THEE There was--and then no more of THEE and ME. |
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| Then
to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried, Asking,
"What Lamp had Destiny to guide" Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?" And--"A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied. |
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| Earth
could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn; Nor Heav'n, with those eternal Signs reveal'd And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn. |
Earth
could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn; Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal'd And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn. |
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 where in I went. |
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| Then
of the THEE IN ME who works behind
The Veil of Universe I cried to find A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and Something then said--"An Understanding blind." |
Then
of the THEE IN ME who works behind
The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard, As from Without--"THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!" |
Then
of the THEE IN ME who works behind
The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard, As from Without--"THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!" |
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| Then
to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn
My Lip the secret Well of Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live "Drink!--for once dead you never shall return." |
Then
to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the secret Wellof Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live, "Drink !--for, once dead, you never shall return." |
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." |
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." |
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| I
think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live, And merry-make; and the cold Lip I kiss'd How many Kisses might it take—and give! |
I
think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live, And drink; and that impassive Lip I kiss'd, How many Kisses might it take--and give! |
I
think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live, And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd, How many Kisses might it take--and give! |
I
think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live, And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd, How many Kisses might it take--and give! |
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| 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 !" |
For
I
remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all-obliterated Tongue It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!" |
For
I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all-obliterated Tongue It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!" |
For
I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay: And with its all-obliterated Tongue It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!" |
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| For
has not such a Story from of Old
Down Man's successive generations roll'd Of such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould? |
Listen--a
moment listen!--Of the same
Poor Earth from which that Human Whisper came The luckless Mould in which Mankind was cast They did compose, and call'd him by the name. |
And
has
not such a Story from of Old
Down Man's successive generations roll'd Of such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mould? |
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| Ah,
fill the Cup :--what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn TO-MORROW, and dead YESTERDAY, Why fret about them if TO-DAY be sweet! |
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| And
not a drop that from our Cups we throw
On the parcht herbage but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden--far beneath, and long ago. |
And
not a drop that from our Cups we throw
For Earth to drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden--far beneath, and long ago. |
And
not a drop that from our Cups we throw
For Earth to drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden--far beneath, and long ago. |
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| As
then the Tulip for her wonted sup
Of Heavenly Vintage lifts her chalice up, Do you, twin offspring of the soil, till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty Cup. |
As
then the Tulip for her morning sup
Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up, Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty Cup. |
As
then the Tulip for her morning sup
Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up, Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n To Earth invert you like an empty Cup. |
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| Do
you, within your little hour of Grace,
The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace, Before the Mother back into her arms Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace. |
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| 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! |
One
Moment in Annihilation's Waste,
One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste-- The Stars are setting, and the Caravan Draws to the Dawn of Nothing--Oh make haste! |
A
Moment's Halt—a momentary taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste-- And LO!--the phantom Caravan has reach'd The NOTHING it set out from--Oh, make haste! |
A
Moment's Halt—a momentary taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste-- And LO!--the phantom Caravan has reach'd The NOTHING it set out from--Oh, make haste! |
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| How
long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of this and That endeavour and dispute? Better be merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. |
Waste
not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better he merry with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. |
Waste
not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. |
Waste
not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute; Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit. |
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| You
know, my Friends, how long since in my House
For a new Marriage I did make Carouse: Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. |
You
know, my Friends, how bravely in my House
For a new Marriage I did make Carouse: Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed. And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. |
You
know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my house; Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse. |
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 where in I went. |
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| For
"IS" and IS-NOT 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. |
For
"IS" and "IS NOT" though with Rule and Line,
And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but--Wine. |
For
"IS" and "IS NOT" though with Rule and Line,
And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but--Wine. |
For
"IS" and "IS NOT" though with Rule and Line,
And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, I Was never deep in anything but--Wine. |
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| And
lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape! |
And
lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape! |
And
lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape! |
And
lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape! |
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| The
Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute. |
The
Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute: |
The
Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute: |
The
Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute: |
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| The
mighty Mahmúd, the victorious Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters and slays with his enchanted Sword. |
The
mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword. |
The
mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword. |
The
mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord,
That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword. |
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| But
leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be: And, in some corner of the Hubbub coucht, Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee. |
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| For
in and out, above, about, below,'
Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, |