Omar Khayyam

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.

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 reaped—'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.

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.

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.

For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Play'd by the Magic Lantern of the World, Round which the Phantom Figures come and go.

And that inverted Bowl we call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help—for It As impotently rolls as you or I.

A Hair perhaps divides the False and True—Yes; and a single Alif were the clue—Could you but find it—to the Treasure-house, And Him who keeps it, locked within your view.

The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd, Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep, They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.

I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return'd to me, And answer'd 'I myself am Heav'n and Hell:'

We are no other than a moving row Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held In Midnight by the Master of the Show;

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help—for It As impotently rolls as you or I.

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!

The Palace that to Heav'n his Pillars threw, And Kings the Throne of Jamshyd high to view, Where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep, and new his Ruby Cup with Wine of Light anew.

Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And who with Eden didst devise the Snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give—and take!

The Stars are setting, and the Caravan Draws to the Dawn a Moment to delay. The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly—and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

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!

And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky, Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die, Lift not your hands to It for help—for It As impotently moves as you or I.

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.

Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before I swore—but was I sober when I swore? And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.