Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám: The Astronomer-poet of Persia |
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according answer asked Author better blowing Bowl buried Calcutta Clay close contains copy cries Darkness Devotion died divides Divinité Divinity Doctor Doctrine Door doubt drank Drink Dust Earth Edition evil False favour fear Figures Flower fortune Garden gone Grape grows Háfiz hand Head heard Heaven Hell Hope Images Khayyam King late less Light Line live Look Love Monsieur Nicolas Moon Morn move mystical Naishápúr natural never Night Notes OMAR KHAYYÁM Omar's once Oriental passed perhaps Persia Philosophe Poems Poet Potter prepare Press Quatrain question quoted rest Review rolling Rose round Rubaiyát says Seas Seven Shapes Song Soul Spring Story strikes Súfi Sultan supposed tell thing Thou To-morrow turn Verses Vessel Water whence White Wind Wine World written
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Страница 33 - 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 Kaikobad away.
Страница 34 - 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!
Страница 36 - 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, but cannot break his sleep.
Страница 37 - 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...
Страница 38 - 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 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.
Страница 57 - Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And ev'n with Paradise devise the Snake: For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd — Man's forgiveness give — and take!
Страница 53 - 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.
Страница 32 - 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.
Страница 63 - Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, Would not we shatter it to bits — and then Remold it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
Страница 59 - Let whoso make or buy, My Clay with long Oblivion is gone dry: But fill me with the old familiar Juice, Methinks I might recover by and by.