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OMAR KHAYYÁM. —— -1123.
(Translated by Edward Fitzgerald.)
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
Rubáiyát. Stanza xix.
A Moment's Halt—a momentary taste
Of Being from the Well amid the Waste—