The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam Jr. | Page 5

the Least, a Bit Embarrassing.
LI
Some I have known are jabbering in Hell,?Others have passed in Heaven's Reward to dwell;?So, when my Soul has flitted, must I find?The same bland Bores, the same old Tales to tell.
LII
There is the Thought beneath whose vampire Tooth?The Soul outshrieks at such unseemly Sooth:?The Solemn Bore still waits beyond the Grave -?Ah, let me stay and taste undying Youth!
LIII
Into some secret, migrant Realm without,?By the dun Cloak of Darkness wrapped about,?Or by ringed Saturn's Swirl thou may'st be hid?In vain: be sure the Bore will find you out.
LIV
Were't not a shame, were't not a shame I say,?That in this sorry Brotherhood of Clay?No Necromance the Philtre can distil?To keep Mosquitoes, Death and Bores away?
LV
Northly or Southly may I ride or walk?Beneath the glacial Crag or fronded Stalk,?But still the Spectre gibbers in my Ears?And drowns my Spirits in a Sea of Talk.
LVI
The Noun and Verb he scatters without End?And Adjectives to Pronouns Horror lend -?Ah, fumid Pipe, I thank you hour by hour?That you have never learned to talk, my Friend!
LVII
Better the pleasaunce-breathing Pipe for me?Than lodgment in that Great Menagerie?Where Birds of aureate Plumage preen their Quills?And Social Lions growl above their Tea.
LVIII
The Tea, that in the magic of its Flow?Anoints the Tongue to wag of So-and-So,?To gabble garbled Garrulousness ere?You lay the Cup and Saucer down and Go.
LIX
And we that now make Madness in the Room?Where last week's Lion had his little Boom?Ourselves must go and leave that flattering Din?And let them brew another Tea - for whom?
LX
They say the Lion and the Ladies keep?The Court where Johnson jested and drank deep;?Now Minor Poets label new Cigars?And sell their Reputations passing cheap.
LXI
O foozled Poetasters, fogged with Wine,?Who to your Orgies bid the Muses Nine,?Go bid them, then, but leave to me the Tenth,?Whose name is Nicotine, for she is mine!
LXII
Peace to the Pipe, that silent Infidel,?Whose spiral-twisted Coils Discretion spell!?How many Kisses has he seen me Give,?How many Take - and yet he will not Tell.
LXIII
Dumbly he saw the rosy-tinted Bliss?When Zamperina kissed her maiden Kiss,?Her Innocence betraying in the Cry,?"Oh, how can you respect me after This?"
LXIV
Another Time, all dalliant and slow,?To those deluscious Lips I bended low,?And at the Second Kiss she only said,?"Do you do This to Every Girl you Know?"
LXV
Unto that flowery Cup I bent once more;?Again she showed no seeming to abhor,?But at the Third Kiss all she asked or wist?Was, "Is This all you Come to See me For?"
LXVI
But One there is more sage in that Caress,?Raising no mawkish Pennant of Distress,?But when I tip the Osculative Brim?Accepts the Kiss in Silent Thankfulness.
LXVII
Her Lips no Questions ask - Content is hers?If her Artistic Spirit wakes and stirs,?Nor recks of those Romances Heretofore -?Engagements where I won my Brazen Spurs.
LXVIII
A Microbe lingers in a Kiss, you say??Yes, but he nibbles in a pleasant Way.?Rather than in the Cup and Telephone?Better to catch him Kissing and be gay.
LXIX
Enough of Kisses, whose ecstatic Stuff?Endures an Age and flickers in a Puff,?That undeserv��d Web of foibled Toys,?Enough - of Kisses can there be Enough?
LXX
What, then, of Him in dizzy Heights profound?Who scans the Zenith's constellated Round??Alas! who goes ballooning to the Stars?Too often runs his Trade into the Ground.
LXXI
Little we Learn beyond the A B C -?Except D E F G H I it be,?Or J K L M N O P Q R?And then S T U V W X Y Z.
LXXII
A Solon ponders till his Years are great?On Sway of Power and Magnitude of State,?Then in his Age he leaves the Questions to?The Wisdom of the Sweet Girl Graduate.
LXXIII
The Delphic Gaberdine avails me not?When Laurels fester into loathly Rot,?And in his starry Shroud the Poet starves?While growing Roses in a Cabbage Lot.
LXXIV
Forgive, ye Wise, the Oaf who nothing knows?And glories in the Bubbles that he blows,?And while you wrestle blindly with the World,?He whistles on his Fingers and his Toes.
LXXV
What good to dread the Storm's impending Black?With woful Ululation and "Alack!" -?The garbled Tenor of a sore Despite?Can never bring your lost Umbrella back.
LXXVI
So what of Secrets mouthed beneath the Rose,?Rumorous Badinage of These and Those? -?The Lady Lodger in the Flat upstairs?Knows all you do and say - she knows - she knows!
LXXVII
She knows, but though her cavernous Ears are sage,?Nought can she fathom of one glyphic Page,?Nought from a Woman's Record can she tell -?I still must guess at Zamperina's Age.
LXXVIII
Time only knows, whose spinning Axes quake?The astral Turrets where the Patient wake?To count the Stars and Planets as they pass -?Oh, what a Task for one to Undertake!
LXXIX
Ask not behind my moated Soul austere?One Moment on my Secret Self to peer -?Already you have seen Sufficient there?To keep me in a wholesome State of Fear.
LXXX
Nay, Zamperina, save those agate Eyes?From shrewd empiric Paths where Knowledge lies;?Throw