Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FROM OMAR KHAYYAM, by WHITLEY STOKES


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FROM OMAR KHAYYAM, by                    
First Line: I dashed my clay-cup on the stone hard-by
Last Line: And time has torn the robe that patience made.


I DASHED my clay-cup on the stone hard-by:
The reckless frolic raised my heart on high:
Then said a shard with momentary voice:
'As thou have I been; thou shalt be as I.'

Annihilation makes me not to fear:
In truth it seems more sweet than lingering here:
My life was sent me as a loan unsought:
When pay-day comes I'll pay without a tear.

Has God made profit from my coming? Nay.
His glory gains not when I go away.
Mine ear has never heard from mortal man
This coming and this going, why are they?

I'd not have come, had this been left to me:
Nor would I go, to go if I were free:
Oh! best of all, upon this lonely earth
Neither to come nor go, yea, not to be!

Oh! that there were some place where men could rest,
Some end to look for in this lonely quest,
Some hope that in a hundred thousand years
Our dust might blossom on the Mother's breast!

Alas for me! the Book of Youth is read:
The fresh glad Spring is now December dead:
That bird of joy whose name was Youth is flown:
Ay me, I know not how he came or fled!

Sweet airs are blowing on the rose of May:
Sweet eyes are shining down the garden gay:
Aught sweet of dead yestreen you cannot say --
No more of it, so sweet is this to-day!

When Death uproots my life-plant, ear and grain,
And flings them forth to moulder on the plain,
If men shall make a wine-jug of my clay,
And brim with wine, 'twill leap to life again.

This jar was once a lover like to me,
Lost in delight of wooing one like thee;
And, lo! the handle here upon the neck
Was once the arm that held her neck in fee.

Your love-nets hold my hair-forsaken head:
Therefore my lips in warming wine are red:
Repentance born of Reason you have wrecked,
And Time has torn the robe that Patience made.





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