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I-V    VI-X     XI-XV    XVI-XX    XXI-XXV     XXVI-XXX    XXXI-XXXV
XXXVI-XL    XLI-XLV    XLVI-L    LI-LV     LVI-LX    LXI-LXV    LXVI-LXX     LXXI-LXXV

  Magellan's Log Copyright © 2001 Texas Chapbook Press
www.texaschapbookpress.com

VI.

And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
High piping Pelevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!"--the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of hers to'incarnadine.


VII.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.


VIII.

And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay:
And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.


IX.

But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hatim Tai cry Supper--heed them not.


X.

With me along some Strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan scarce is known,
And pity Sultan Mahmud on his Throne.