The New Omar

A Book of verses underneath the bough,
 Provided that the verses do not scan,
A loaf of bread, a jug of wine and Thou,
 Short-haired, all angles, looking like a man.
But let the wine be unfermented, Pale,
 Of chemicals compounded, God knows how—
This were indeed the Prophet’s Paradise,
 O Paradise were Wilderness enow.
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