I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in its Lap from some … - Omar Khayyám

Dawn filled the sky with roses. In the
crystal-clear air the last song of the nightingale
dies. The smell of the wine weakens. This is the moment
when fools dream of fame! How soft
is your hair, my beloved!

Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; But still a Ruby kindles in the Vine, And many a Garden by the Water blows.

Allah, perchance, the secret word might spell; If Allah be, He keeps His secret well; What He hath hidden, who shall hope to find? Shall God His secret to a maggot tell? … The Koran! well, come put me to the test— Lovely old book in hideous error drest— Believe me, I can quote the Koran too, The unbeliever knows his Koran best. And do you think that unto such as you, A maggot-minded, starved, fanatic crew, God gave the secret, and denied it me?— Well, well, what matters it! believe that too.