And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live, "Drink!--for, once dead, you never shall return."XXXVI.
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive Articulation answer'd, once did live, And drink; and Ah! the passive Lip I kiss'd, How many Kisses might it take--and give!
XXXVII.
For I remember stopping by the way To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all-obliterated Tongue It murmur'd--"Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"XXXVIII.
And has not such a Story from of Old Down Man's successive generations roll'd Of such a clod of saturated Earth Cast by the Maker into Human mold?
XXXIX.
And not a drop that from our Cups we throw For Earth to drink of, but may steal below To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye There hidden--far beneath, and long ago.
XL.
As then the Tulip for her morning sup Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up, Do you devoutly do the like, till Heav'n To Earth invert you--like an empty Cup.
XLI.
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.
XLII.
And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in what All begins and ends in--Yes;Think then you are TO-DAY what YESTERDAY
You were--TO-MORROW you shall not be less.
XLIII.
So when that Angel of the darker Drink At last shall find you by the river-brink, And, offering his Cup, invite your Soul Forth to your Lips to quaff--you shall not shrink.
XLIV.
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside, And naked on the Air of Heaven ride, Were't not a Shame--were't not a Shame for him In this clay carcass crippled to abide?
XLV.
'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 Ferrash Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest.
XLVI.
And fear not lest Existence closing your Account, and mine, should know the like no more;The Eternal Saki from that Bowl has pour'd Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.
XLVII.
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 the Sea's self should heed a pebble-cast.
XLVIII.
A Moment's Halt--a momentary taste Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste--And Lo!--the phantom Caravan has reach'd The NOTHING it set out from--Oh, make haste!
XLIX.
Would you that spangle of Existence spend About THE SECRET--quick about it, Friend!
A Hair perhaps divides the False from True--And upon what, prithee, may life depend?
L.
A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;Yes; and a single Alif were the clue--
Could you but find it--to the Treasure-house, And peradventure to THE MASTER too;LI.
Whose secret Presence through Creation's veins Running Quicksilver-like eludes your pains;Taking all shapes from Mah to Mahi and They change and perish all--but He remains;LII.
A moment guessed--then back behind the Fold Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll'd Which, for the Pastime of Eternity, He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold.
LIII.
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?
LIV.
Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit Of This and That endeavor and dispute;Better be jocund with the fruitful Grape Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.
LV.
You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse I made a Second Marriage in my house;Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed, And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.
LVI.
For "Is" and "Is-not" though with Rule and Line And "UP-AND-DOWN" by Logic I define, Of all that one should care to fathom, Iwas never deep in anything but--Wine.
LVII.
Ah, by my Computations, People say, Reduce the Year to better reckoning?--Nay, 'Twas only striking from the Calendar Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday.
LVIII.
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape, Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and He bid me taste of it; and 'twas--the Grape!
LIX.
The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life's leaden metal into Gold transmute;LX.
The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord, That all the misbelieving and black Horde Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.
LXI.
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?
LXII.
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!
LXIII.
Of 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 has blown for ever dies.
LXIV.
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.
LXV.
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 comrades, and to Sleep return'd.
LXVI.
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:"LXVII.
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire, And Hell the Shadow from a Soul on fire, Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves, So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.
LXVIII.
