Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/258

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My love shone forth, and I was overcome, My heart was speaking, but my tongue was dumb; Beside the water-brooks I died of thirst. Was ever known so strange a martyrdom?

Give me my cup in hand, and sing a glee In concert with the bulbuls' symphony; Wine would not gurgle as it leaves the flask, If drinking mute were right for thee and me!

The "Truth" will not be shown to lofty thought, Nor yet with lavished gold may it be bought; But, if you yield your life for fifty years, From words to "states" you may perchance be brought.