52

51

51

 Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins
 Running, Quicksilver-like eludes your pains:
 Taking all shapes from Máh to Máhi; and 
 They change and perish all--but He remains;

 Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins
 Running, Quicksilver-like eludes your pains:
 Taking all shapes from Máh to Máhi; and 
 They change and perish all--but He remains;

 Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins
 Running, Quicksilver-like eludes your pains:
 Taking all shapes from Máh to Máhi; and 
 They change and perish all--but He remains;

53

52

52

 A moment guess'd--then back behind the Fold
 Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd
 Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,
 He does Himself contrive, enact, behold.

 A moment guess'd--then back behind the Fold
 Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd
 Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,
 He does Himself contrive, enact, behold.

 A moment guess'd--then back behind the Fold
 Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd
 Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,
 He does Himself contrive, enact, behold.

54

53

53

 But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor
 Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door,
 You gaze To-day, while You are You--how then
 To-morrow, You when shall be You no more

 But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor
 Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door,
 You gaze To-day, while You are You--how then
 To-morrow, You when shall be You no more

 But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor
 Of Earth, and up to Heav'n's unopening Door,
 You gaze To-day, while You are You--how then
 To-morrow, when You shall be You no more

55

41

41

 Oh, plagued no more with Human or Divine
 To-morrow's tangle to itself resign,
 And lose your fingers in the tresses of
 The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

 Perplext no more with Human or Divine, 
 To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,
 And lose your fingers in the tresses of 
 The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

 Perplext no more with Human or Divine, 
 To-morrow's tangle to the winds resign,
 And lose your fingers in the tresses of 
 The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

59

57

57

 Ah, but my Computations, People say,
Have squared the Year to human compass, eh?
If so, by striking from the Calendar
Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday.

 Ah, but my Computations, People say, 
 Reduced the Year to better reckoning?--Nay,
 'Twas only striking from the Calendar 
 Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

 Ah, but my Computations, People say, 
 Reduced the Year to better reckoning?--Nay,
 'Twas only striking from the Calendar 
 Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

63

61

61

 Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
 Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?
 A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
 And if a Curse--why, then, Who set it there?

 Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
 Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?
 A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
 And if a Curse--why, then, Who set it there?

 Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
 Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare?
 A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
 And if a Curse--why, then, Who set it there?

64

62

62

 I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must, 
 Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust,
 Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink, 
 When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!

 I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
 Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust, 
 Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
 To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!

 I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,
 Scared by some After-reckoning ta'en on trust, 
 Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink,
 To fill the Cup--when crumbled into Dust!

65

 If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band 
 Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand,
 Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise
 Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand.

66

63

63

 Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! 
 One thing at least is certain--This Life flies: 
 One thing is certain and the rest is lies;
 The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.

 Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! 
 One thing at least is certain--This Life flies: 
 One thing is certain and the rest is lies;
 The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.

 Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise! 
 One thing at least is certain--This Life flies: 
 One thing is certain and the rest is lies;
 The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.

67

64

64

 Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
 Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through
 Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
 Which to discover we must travel too.

 Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
 Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through
 Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
 Which to discover we must travel too.

 Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
 Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through
 Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
 Which to discover we must travel too.

68

65

65

 The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
 Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
 Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep
 They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.

 The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
 Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
 Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep
 They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.

 The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
 Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
 Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep
 They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.

69

44

44

 Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
 And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
 Is't not a shame---is't not a shame for him
 So long in this Clay suburb to abide?

 Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
 And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
 Wer't not a Shame--wer't not a shame for him
 In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

 Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
 And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
 Wer't not a Shame--wer't not a shame for him
 In this clay carcase crippled to abide?

70

45

45

 But that is but a Tent wherein may rest
 A sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
 The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrásh
 Strikes, and prepares it for another guest.

 'Tis but a Tent where takes his one-day's rest
 A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
 The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrásh
 Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.

 'Tis but a Tent where takes his one-day's rest
 A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
 The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrásh
 Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.

71

66

66

 I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
 Some letter of that After-life to spell:
 And after many days my Soul return'd
 And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell :"

 I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
 Some letter of that After-life to spell:
 And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
 And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell :"

 I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
 Some letter of that After-life to spell:
 And by and by my Soul return'd to me,
 And answer'd "I Myself am Heav'n and Hell :"

72

67

67

 Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
 And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
 Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
 So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire.

 Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
 And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
 Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
 So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire.

 Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
 And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
 Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
 So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire.

49

74

69

69

 'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
 Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
 Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
 And one by one back in the Closet lays.

 Impotent Pieces of the Game He plays
 Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
 Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays;
 And one by one back in the Closet lays.

 Impotent Pieces of the Game He plays
 Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
 Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays;
 And one by one back in the Closet lays.

 But helpless Pieces of the Game He plays
 Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;
 Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays,
 And one by one back in the Closet lays.

50

75

70

70

 The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
 But Right or Left, as strikes the Player goes;
 And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
 He knows about it all--HE knows---HE knows!

 The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, 
 But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
 And He that toss'd you down into the Field, 
 He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!

 The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, 
 But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;
 And He that toss'd you down into the Field, 
 He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!

 The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes, 
 But Here or There as strikes the Player goes;
 And He that toss'd you down into the Field, 
 He knows about it all--HE knows--HE knows!

51

76

71

71

 The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
 Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
 Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

 The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
 Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
 Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

 The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
 Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
 Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

 The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
 Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
 Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
 Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

77

 For let Philosopher and Doctor preach
 Of what they will, and what they will not--each
 Is but one Link in an eternal Chain
 That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach.

52

78

72

72

 And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
 Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
 Lift not thy hands to It for help--for it
 Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

 And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, 
 Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
 Lift not your hands to It for help--for It 
 As impotently rolls as you or I.

 And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, 
 Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
 Lift not your hands to It for help--for It 
 As impotently rolls as you or I.

 And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, 
 Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
 Lift not your hands to It for help--for It
 As impotently moves as you or I.

53

79

73

73

 With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
 And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
 Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
 What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

 With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
 And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
 Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
 What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

 With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
 And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
 Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
 What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

 With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
 And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
 Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
 What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

80

74

74

 Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
 To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
 Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
 Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

 Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
 To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
 Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
 Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

 Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
 To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
 Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
 Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

54

81

75

75

 I tell Thee this--When, starting from the Goal,
 Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
 Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtara they flung,
 In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul

 I tell you this--when, started from the Goal,
 Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal 
 Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
 In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul.

 I tell you this--when, started from the Goal,
 Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal 
 Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
 In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul.

 I tell you this--when, started from the Goal,
 Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal 
 Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
 In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul.