Omar Khayyám Quotes

'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest; The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.

Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were't not a Shame — were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

Perplext 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.

Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn: And Lip to Lip it murmur'd — "While you live Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return".

Then of the Thee in Me works behind The Veil, I lifted up my hands to find A Lamp amid the Darkness; and I heard, As from Without — "The Me Within Thee Blind!"

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.

Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate; And many a Knot unravel'd by the Road; But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

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!

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 reap'd — "I came like Water, and like Wind I go".

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.

Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of the Two Worlds so wisely — they are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

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".

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest.

Ah, my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clears To-day Past Regrets and Future Fears: To-morrow! — Why, To-morrow I may be Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

And this reviving Herb whose tender Green Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean — Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!