Page:Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the astronomer-poet of Persia (IA ru00biytofomaromarrich).pdf/36

 None answer'd this; but after Silence spake A Vessel of a more ungainly Make: "They sneer at me for leaning all awry; "What? did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

Said one—"Folks of a surly Tapster tell, "And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell; "They talk of some strict Testing of us—Pish! "He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh, "My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry: "But, fill me with the old familiar Juice, "Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!"

So, while the Vessels one by one were speaking, One spied the little Crescent all were seeking: And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother! "Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!"