Page:Quatrains of Omar Khayyam (tr. Whinfield, 1883).djvu/352

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This soul of mine was once Thy cherished bride, What caused Thee to divorce her from Thy side? Thou didst not nse to treat her thus of yore, Why then now doom her in the world to abide?

Ah! would there were a place of rest from pain, Which we, poor pilgrims, might at last attain, And after many thousand wintry years, Renew our life, like flowers, and bloom again!

While in love's book I sought an augury; An ardent youth cried out in ecstacy, "Who owns a sweetheart beauteous as the moon, Might wish his moments long as years to be!"