XLV
And if the Cup you drink, the Lip you press,
End in what All begins and ends in—Yes;
Imagine then you are what heretofore
You were—hereafter you shall not be less.
XLVI
So when at last the Angel of the drink
Of Darkness finds you by the river-brink,
And, proffering his Cup, invites your Soul
Forth to your Lips to quaff it—do not shrink.
XLVII
And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, should lose, or know the type no more;
The Eternal Sákí from that Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.
XLVIII
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.