#EnglishWriters
71 The Moving Finger writes, and, ha… Moves on; nor all your Piety nor… Shall lure it back to cancel half… Nor all your Tears wash out a Wor…
15 And those who husbanded the Golde… And those who flung it to the wind… Alike to no such aureate Earth ar… As, buried once, Men want dug up…
73 With Earth’s first Clay They did… And then of the Last Harvest sow’… Yea, the first Morning of Creatio… What the Last Dawn of Reckoning…
77 And this I know: whether the one… Kindle to Love, or Wrath—consume… One Flash of It within the Taver… Better than in the Temple lost ou…
The wind blew keenly from the Wes… And drove the dead leaves slanting… Vanity of vanities, the Preacher… Heaping them up before her Father… When I saw her whom I shall see n…
8 Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, Whether the Cup with sweet or bit… The Wine of Life keeps oozing dro… The Leaves of Life keep falling o…
And, as the Cock crew, those who… The Tavern shouted—“Open, then, t… You know how little while we have… And, once departed, may return no…
Before the phantom of False morni… Methought a Voice within the Tave… “When all the Temple is prepared… Why nods the drowsy Worshiper out…
Now the New Year reviving old De… The thoughtful Soul to Solitude r… Where the White Hand Of Moses on… Puts out, and Jesus from the Grou…
13 Some for the Glories of This Wor… Sigh for the Prophet’s Paradise t… Ah, take the Cash, and let the Cr… Nor heed the rumble of a distant…
11 With me along the strip of Herbag… That just divides the desert from… Where name of Slave and Sultan is… And Peace to Mahmud on his golden…
10 Well, let it take them! What have… With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaik… Let Zal and Rustum bluster as the… Or Hatim call to Supper—heed not…
Wake! For the Sun, who scattered… The Stars before him from the Fie… Drives Night along with them from… The Sultán’s Turret with a Shaft… Before the phantom of False morni…
5 Iram indeed is gone with all his… And Jamshyd’s Sev’n—ring’d Cup w… But still a Ruby kindles in the V… And many a Garden by the Water bl…
TIS a dull sight To see the year dying, When winter winds Set the yellow wood sighing: Sighing, O sighing!
