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!"

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discussed
Of the two Worlds so wisely-they are thrust

Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scattered, and their Mouths are stopped with Dust.

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.

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.

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!

Up from Earth's Center through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,

And many a Knot unraveled by the Road;
But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

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.

Rubáiyát of Omar Kháyyám 2767

could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
ing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;

rolling Heaven, with all his Signs revealed
dden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.

of the THEE IN ME who works behind
eil, I lifted up my hands to find

amp amid the Darkness; and I heard,
m Without-"THE ME WITHIN THEE BLIND!"

to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn ed, the Secret of my Life to learn:

Lip to Lip it murmured-"While you live, !-for, once dead, you never shall return."

k the Vessel, that with fugitive
ulation answered, once did live,
d drink; and ah! the passive Lip I kissed,
many Kisses might it take-and give!

remember stopping by the way

atch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
d with its all-obliterated Tongue
urmured-"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"

has not such a Story from of Old
n Man's successive generations rolled
such a cloud of saturated Earth
by the Maker into Human mold?

not a drop that from our Cups we throw Earth to drink of, but may steal below o quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye re hidden-far beneath, and long ago.

hen the Tulip for her morning sup Heavenly Vintage from the soil looks up, o you devoutly do the like, till Heaven Earth invert you-like an empty Cup.

Perplexed no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of
The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine,

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,
End in what All begins and ends in Yes;

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
At last shall find you by the river-brink,
And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaffyou shall not shrink,

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,

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
Account, and mine, should know the like no more
The Eternal Sákí from that Bowl has poured
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.

When You and I behind the Veil are passed,
Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.

-

A Moment's Halt a momentary taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste
And Lo!-the phantom Caravan has reached
The NOTHING it set out from-Oh, make hastel

Rubaiyát of Omar Khayyám 2769

you that spangle of Existence spend HE SECRET quick about it, Friend! ir perhaps divides the False and True on what, prithee, does life depend?

perhaps divides the False and True; d a single Alif were the clue

d you but find it-to the Treasure-house, radventure to THE MASTER LOO:

secret Presence, through Creation's yeins g Quicksilver-like eludes your pains; Ing all shapes from Máh to Máhi; and change and perish all-but He remains;

ment guessed then back behind the Fold
sed of Darkness round the Drama rolled
ich, for the Pastime of Eternity,
th Himself contrive, enact, behold.

in vain, down on the stubborn floor rth, and up to Heaven's unopening Door, gaze TO-DAY, while You are You-how then ORROW, You when shall be You no more?

e not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
his and That endeavor and dispute;
tter be jocund with the fruitful Grape
sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
de a Second Marriage in my house;
vorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

"Is" and "Is-Nor" though with Rule and Line, "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define,

all that one should care to fathom, I never deep in anything but-Wine.

Ah, but my Computations, People say,
Reduced the Year to better reckoning?-Nay,
'Twas only striking from the Calendar
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

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!

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 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.

Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?“

A Blessing, we should use it, should we not? And if a Curse-why, then, Who set it there?

I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
To fill the Cup-when crumbled into Dust!

Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!
One thing at least is certain-This Life flies:
One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.

Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us passed the door of Darkness through,
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.