Some springtime quatrains. A few selections from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam translated by Edward FitzGerald (5th Edition).
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
0000The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly—and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
0000Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn
In flowing Purple, of their Lord Forlorn;
0000Nor rolling Heaven, with all his Signs reveal’d
And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.
How long, how long, in infinite Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and dispute?
0000Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
0000Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it
Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
0000Would not we shatter it to bits—and then
Re-mold it nearer to the Heart’s Desire!