Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/192

136

Now is the time earth decks her greenest bowers, And trees, like Musa's hand, grow white with flowers! As 't were at 'Isa's breath the plants revive, While clouds brim o'er, like tearful eyes, with showers.

O burden not thyself with drudgery, Lord of white silver and red gold to be; But feast with friends, ere this warm breath of thine Be chilled in death, and earthworms feast on thee.

The showers of grape-juice, which cupbearers pour, Quench fires of grief in many a sad heart's core; Praise be to Allah, who hath sent this balm To heal sore hearts, and spirits' health restore!