kandungan101 bab
1Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night2Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky3And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before4Now the New Year reviving old Desires,5Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,6And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine7Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring8And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day9But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot10With me along some Strip of Herbage strown11Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,12"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"--think some:13Look to the Rose that blows about us--"Lo,14The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon15And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,16Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai17They say the Lion and the Lizard keep18I sometimes think that never blows so red19And this delightful Herb whose tender Green20Ah! my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears21Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and the best22And we, that now make merry in the Room23Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,24Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare,25Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd26Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise27Myself when young did eagerly frequent28With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,29Into this Universe, and why not knowing,30What, without asking, hither hurried whence?31Up from Earth's Centre through the seventh Gate32There was a Door to which I found no Key:33Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,34Then to this earthen Bowl did I adjourn35I think the Vessel, that with fugitive36For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,37Ah, fill the Cup:--what boots it to repeat38One Moment in Annihilation's Waste,39How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit40You know, my Friends, how long since in my House41For "IS" and "IS-NOT" though with Rule and Line,42And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,43The Grape that can with Logic absolute44The mighty Mahmud, the victorious Lord,45But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me46For in and out, above, about, below,47And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press,48While the Rose blows along the River Brink,49'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days50The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,51The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,52And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,53With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man's knead,54The Vine had struck a Fibre; which about55And this I know: whether the one True Light,56Oh Thou who didst with Pitfall and with Gin57Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,58Listen again. One Evening at the Close59And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot60Then said another--"Surely not in vain61Another said--"Why, ne'er a peevish Boy62None answer'd this; but after Silence spake63Said one--"Folks of a surly Tapster tell,64Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,65So, while the Vessels one by one were speaking,66Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,67That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare68Indeed, the Idols I have loved so long69Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before70And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,71Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!72Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire73Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,74And when Thyself with shining Foot shall pass75Would you that spangle of Existence spend76The Vine had struck a fiber: which about77And this I know: whether the one True Light78What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke79What! from his helpless Creature be repaid80Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin81Oh Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,82As under cover of departing Day83Shapes of all Sorts and Sizes, great and small,84Said one among them--"Surely not in vain85Then said a Second--"Ne'er a peevish Boy86After a momentary silence spake87Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot--88"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell89"Well," murmured one, "Let whoso make or buy,90So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,91Ah, with the Grape my fading life provide,92That ev'n buried Ashes such a snare93Indeed the Idols I have loved so long94Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before95And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,96Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!97Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield98Would but some winged Angel ere too late99Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire100Yon rising Moon that looks for us again--
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