Omar Khayyám

SAYER of sooth, and Searcher of dim skies!
Lover of Song, and Sun, and Summertide,
For whom so many roses bloomed and died!
Tender Interpreter, most sadly wise,
Of earth’s dumb, inarticulated cries !
Time’s self cannot estrange us, nor divide;
Thy hand still beckons from the garden-side,
Through green vine-garlands, when the Winter dies.
Thy calm lips smile on us, thine eyes are wet;
The nightingale’s full song sobs all through thine,
And thine in hers, — part human, part divine!
Among the deathless gods thy place is set,
All-wise, but drowsy with Life’s mingled Wine,
Laughter and Learning, Passion and Regret.
Graham R. Tomson.