#EnglishWriters
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…
TIS a dull sight To see the year dying, When winter winds Set the yellow wood sighing: Sighing, O sighing!
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…
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…
74 Yesterday This Day’s Madness did… To—morrow’s Silence, Triumph, or… Drink! for you know not whence you… Drink! for you know not why you go…
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…
76 The Vine had struck a fibre: whic… If clings my Being—let the Dervis… Of my Base metal may be filed a K… That shall unlock the Door he how…
75 I tell you this—when, started from… Over the flaming shoulders of the… Of Heav’n Parwin and Mushtari th… In my predestin’d Plot of Dust an…
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…
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…
72 And that inverted Bowl they call… Whereunder crawling cooped we liv… Lift not your hands to It for hel… As impotently moves as you or I.
14 Look to the blowing Rose about us… Laughing," she says, “into the wor… At once the silken tassel of my P… Tear, and its Treasure on the Gar…
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…
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…
6 And David’s lips are lockt; but i… High—piping Pehlevi, with “Wine!… Red Wine!”—the Nightingale cries… That sallow cheek of hers t’ incar…