"Think you the Gold they fight for all day long
Is worth the frugal Peace their clamours wrong?
Their Titles, and the Name they toil to build—
Will they outlast the echoes of our Song?"
V.
O Sons of Omar, what shall be the close
Seek not to know, for no man living knows:
But while within your hands the Wine is set
Drink ye—to Omar and the Dreaming Rose!
{134}
To Edward Fitzgerald
(MARCH 31ST, 1909)
'Tis a sad fate
To watch the world fighting,
All that is most fair
Ruthlessly blighting,
Blighting, ah! blighting.
When such a thought cometh
Let us not pine,
But gather old friends
Round the red wine—
Oh! pour the red wine!
And there we'll talk
And warm our wits
With Eastern fallacies
Out of old Fitz!
British old Fitz!
See him, half statesman—
Philosopher too—
Half ancient mariner
In baggy blue—
Such baggy blue!