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OMAR-FITZ-GERALDICS
You laugh To-day, the Preacher said, but know
Salt tears To-morrow from your eyes shall flow:
Bah! he's a fool who, fearing future ills,
Doth this day's mirth and happiness forego.
Salt tears To-morrow from your eyes shall flow:
Bah! he's a fool who, fearing future ills,
Doth this day's mirth and happiness forego.
Let Fate inflict what future ills it may,
It cannot touch the joy enjoyed To-day:
The deed accomplished shuts the door on Fate:
The Past has passed for ever from its sway.
It cannot touch the joy enjoyed To-day:
The deed accomplished shuts the door on Fate:
The Past has passed for ever from its sway.
We know e'en while the Summer boasts its flowers
That 'twill be followed by bleak Winter hours,—
Why then its beauties let us value more,
And sport more freely in its pleasant bowers.
That 'twill be followed by bleak Winter hours,—
Why then its beauties let us value more,
And sport more freely in its pleasant bowers.
Let Ravens croak as hoarsely as they will,
'Tis not for them Fate's mandates to fulfil;
Perchance it treats more gently you and me
Than those weighed down by fear of future ill.
'Tis not for them Fate's mandates to fulfil;
Perchance it treats more gently you and me
Than those weighed down by fear of future ill.
Since life at best provides small store of joy,
I hold 'tis base that little to destroy:
The Preacher with Damnation on his lips
Is in the Devil's, not in God's employ.
I hold 'tis base that little to destroy:
The Preacher with Damnation on his lips
Is in the Devil's, not in God's employ.
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