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Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say;
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobád away.
Well, let it take them! What have we to do
Let Zál and Rustum bluster as they will,
With me along the strip of Herbage strown
Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot— And peace to Máhmúd on his golden Throne!
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
Some for the Glories of this World; and some
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,
Look to the blowing Rose about us—“Lo,
At once the silken tassel of my Purse
And those who husbanded the Golden grain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turned
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, Lighting a little hour or two-was gone.
Think, in this battered caravanserai
How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
I sometimes think that never blows so red
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropped in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
And this reviving Herb whose tender Green
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
TO-MORROW!-Why, To-morrow I may be
For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath pressed, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest.
And we that now make merry in the Room
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend ourselves to make a Couch-for whom?
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
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,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, "Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!"
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discussed
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Came out by the same door where in I went.
With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And this was all the Harvest that I reaped"I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
Into this Universe, and Why not Knowing
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?
Up from Earth's Center through the Seventh Gate
And many a Knot unraveled by the Road;
There was the Door to which I found no Key;
There was and then no more of THEE and ME.
Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs revealed And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.
Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind
A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard,
Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
And Lip to Lip it murmured—“While you live, Drink!-for, once dead, you never shall return."
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
And drink; and ah! the passive Lip I kissed,
For I remember stopping by the way
To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And has not such a Story from of Old
And not a drop that from our Cups we throw
To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden-far beneath, and long ago.
As then the Tulip for her morning sup
Perplexed no more with Human or Divine,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
Think then you are TO-DAY what YESTERDAY You were-To-MORROW you shall not be less.
So when the Angel of the darker Drink
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
Wer't not a Shame-wer'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 Sultán to the realm of Death addressed;
The Sultán rises, and the dark Ferrásh Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
And fear not lest Existence closing your
When You and I behind the Veil are passed,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
A Moment's Halt-a momentary taste
And Lo!-the phantom Caravan has reached The NOTHING it set out from-Oh, make haste!