XXVIII. Another Voice, when I am sleeping, cries, «The Flower should open with the Morning skies.» And a retreating Whisper, as I wake-- «The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.» XLIV. Do you, within your little hour of Grace, The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace, Before the Mother back into her arms Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace. LXV. If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band Are in the Prophet's Paradise to stand, Alack, I doubt the Prophet's Paradise Were empty as the hollow of one's Hand. LXXVII. For let Philosopher and Doctor preach Of what they will, and what they will not--each Is but one Link in an eternal Chain That none can slip, or break, or over-reach. LXXXVI. Nay, but, for terror of his wrathful Face, I swear I will not call Injustice Grace, Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but Would kick so poor a Coward from the place. XC. And once again there gather'd a scarce heard Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr'd Ashes of some all but extinguisht Tongue, Which mine ear kindled into living Word. (In the third and fourth editions stanza LXXXIII. takes the place of this.) XCIX. Whither resorting from the vernal Heat Shall Old Acquaintance Old Acquaintance greet, Under the Branch that leans above the Wall To shed his Blossom over head and feet. (This was retained in the first draft of ed. 3.) CVII. Better, oh better, cancel from the Scroll Of Universe one luckless Human Soul, Than drop by drop enlarge the Flood that rolls Hoarser with Anguish as the Ages Roll. QUATRAINS OF OMAR KHAYYAM COMPARATIVE TABLE OF STANZAS IN THE FOUR[100] EDITIONS OF FITZGERALD