#EnglishWriters
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.
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…
12 A Book of Verses underneath the… A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—a… Beside me singing in the Wilderne… Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow…
9 Each Morn a thousand Roses brings… Yes, but where leaves the Rose of… And this first Summer month that… Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad a…
A dream it was in which I found m… And you that hail me now, then hai… In a brave palace that was all my… Within, and all without it, mine;… Drunk with excess of majesty and p…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
TIS a dull sight To see the year dying, When winter winds Set the yellow wood sighing: Sighing, O sighing!