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acquaint art like unto bequeath These notes bird blended bliss bloom blossom blowing Bough bowl breath Brood Cadell Caravan cast clay Company crow dream drink Dust earthen EDITED BY JESSIE Edwin Kendall Cutter fair Fate feet FitzGerald flowers Gallienne gate God's grace green hand hast hath heart Heaven heed hope John Leslie Garner Johnson Keene kiss laughing lays The gift Life's lovelier LOVER'S RUBAIYAT MAYNARD meadow Moon Morn morrow lays naught Night Nightingale notes of Omar's Omar Khayyam Omar's song once Pain Paradise parched permission pleasant poem quatrains Rittenhouse rose and song rose's face Ruby Saki shouldst Sigh singing sleep sorrows soul spring stanzas Stokes Sultan sure sweet Sweetheart tears thee thine thou art Thou shalt thy face To-day to-morrow translation underneath Veil weary whence Whinfield Whither Wilderness willy-nilly wind wine ye long ye who walk yesterday York Powell
Page 53 - 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.
Page 44 - 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!
Page 44 - 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! XIV Look to the blowing Rose about us — 'Lo, Laughing...
Page 55 - 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.
Page 46 - 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?
Page 58 - Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose ! That Youth's sweet-scented manuscript should close! The Nightingale that in the branches sang, Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
Page 50 - 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.
Page 53 - 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!