Never Blows So Red
by Omar Khayyam
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The rose as where some buried Caesar bled.
That every hyacinth the garden wears;
Dropt in her lap from some once lovely head.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The rose as where some buried Caesar bled.
That every hyacinth the garden wears;
Dropt in her lap from some once lovely head.
Love reckons by itself -- alone
"As large as I" -- relate the Sun
To One who never felt it blaze
Itself is all the like it has