The young plum-tree
Of my house
Which in bygone years
I dug up by the roots and transplanted
Has at last bloomed with flowers.

Reader , stay, and read a truth:
Here lies Hopton, goodness, youth.
Drop a tear, and let it be
True as thou would'st wish for thee;
Shed one more, thou best of souls;
Those two tears shall be new poles:
By the first we'll sail and find
Those lost jewels of his mind;
By the latter we will swim
Back again, and sleep with him.

My lodging it is on the cold ground,
And very hard is my fare,
But that which troubles me most, is
The unkindness of my dear.
Yet still I cry, "O turn love,'
And I prithee love turn to me,
For thou art the man that I long for,
And alack, what remedy.

I'll crown thee with a garland of straw then,
And I'll marry thee with a rush ring,
My frozen hopes shall thaw then,
And merrily we will sing,
O turn to me my dear love,
And prithee love turn to me,
For thou art the man that alone canst
Procure my Liberty.

A VISION of a quiet place where lay
Late apple-blossoms scattered on the grass;
A carpet greener far than all the day
Our eyes had seen, alas!

A vision in the night of what shall be!
A rounded hillock and a day of peace,
A tender memory of a soul set free,
Earth greener where we cease.

Such was the quiet place whereon there lay
Pale apple-blossoms scattered on the grass;
A carpet greener far than all that day
Mine eyes had seen, alas!

Here lies Fred,
Who was alive and is dead:
Had it been his father,
I had much rather;
Had it been his brother,
Still better than another;
Had it been his sister,
No one would have missed her;
Had it been the whole generation,
So much the better for the nation:

But since 'tis only Fred,
Who was alive and is dead,
There's no more to be said.

Cast down your eyes, lift up your souls,
Dig spoons into the great sauce bowls.
Eat roast and fried and boiled and grilled,
Eat jams and jellies, warmed and chilled.
Eat quails cooked golden to the minute,
Eat nut-fed lamb with raisins in it.
Who would the warm stout capon blame,
Date-colored with judicious flame,
Because he could not sing or fly?
(He eats the better.) Nor can I …
The golds of man are manifold
But Allah made this kabab's gold;
He made this purslane salad sup
The soul of olives from a cup;
He set these twin and ponderous fish

In life of time two rivers join,
One muddy and one clear;
Two days in time of life there are,
The soft and the severe;
You may trust time and life as far
As you would trust the spinning of a coin,

There's nothing like the blood of grapes
To give escapes
From care's infesting, festering apes.
To set the wit upon probation,
To give an edge to conversation,
To make a friend of a relation.
There's nothing like the blood of grapes.

Sleeper, the palm-trees drink the breathless noon,
A golden bee sucks at a fainting rose,
Your lips smile in their sleep. Oh, do not move.

Sleeper, Oh, do not move the gilded gauze
Which lies about your gold, or you will scare
The sun's gold fire which leaps within your crystal.

Sleeper, oh, do not move; your breasts in sleep,
Allah, they dip and rise like waves at sea;
Your breasts are snow, I breathe them in like sea foam,
I taste them like white salt. They dip and fall.

Sleeper, they dip and fall! The smiling stream

I passed a broken tombstone in a glade;
Thereon seven blossoms of anemone.
Said I, “Who lieth here?” Earth answered me,
“Tread softly. Here a lover waits the call.”
Quoth I, “May Allah help thee, slain of love,
And set thee high in heaven's highest seat.”
Unhappy lovers! Even in their tombs
Amid the living in mean dust they lie.
Fain would I plant this garden all with flowers
And water it with freely flowing tears.