Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/212

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The heart, like tapers, takes at beauty's eyes A flame, and lives by that whereby it dies; And beauty is a flame where hearts, like moths, Offer themselves a burning sacrifice.

To please the righteous life itself I sell. And, though they tread me down, never rebel; Men say, "Inform us what and where is hell?" Ill company will make this earth a hell.

The sun doth smite the roofs with Orient ray. And, Khosrau like, his wine-red sheen display; Arise, and drink! the herald of the dawn Uplifts his voice, and cries, "O drink to-day!"