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With me along the strip of Herbage strown

G. Bantock

With me along the strip of Herbage strown

That just divides the desert from the sown,

Where name of Slave and Sultán is forgot --

And Peace to Máhmúd on his golden Throne!

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G. Bantock · song

With me along the strip of Herbage strown

Song 11 of 64

lyrics: Edward Fitzgerald after Hakim Omar Khayyám

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Songs

Collection: 64 lieder

1. Wake! For the Sun who scatter'd into flight

2. Before the phantom of False morning died

3. And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before

4. Now the New Year reviving old Desires

5. Irám indeed is gone with all his Rose

6. And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine

7. Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring

8. Whether at Naishápúr or Babylon

9. Each morn a thousand Roses brings, you say

10. Well, let it take them! What have we to do

11. With me along the strip of Herbage strown

12. A Book of Verses underneath the Bough

13. Some for the Glories of This World; and some

14. Look to the blowing Rose about us -- "Lo

15. And those who husbanded the Golden Grain

16. The worldly hope men set their Hearts upon

17. Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai

18. They say the Lion and the Lizard keep

19. I sometimes think that never blows so red

20. And this delightful Herb, whose tender green

21. Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears

22. For some we loved, the loveliest and the best

23. And we, that now make merry in the Room

24. Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend

25. Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare

26. Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd

27. Myself when young did eagerly frequent

28. With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow

29. Into this Universe, and why not knowing

30. What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?

31. Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate

32. There was the Door to which I found no Key

33. Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn

34. Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind

35. Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn

36. I think the Vessel, that with fugitive

37. For I remember stopping by the way

38. For has not such a Story from of Old

39. And not a drop that from our Cups we throw

40. As then the Tulip for her morning sup

41. Perplext no more with Human or Divine

42. And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press

43. So when the Angel of the darker Drink

44. Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside

45. But that is but a Tent wherein may rest

46. And fear not lest Existence closing your

47. When you and I behind the veil are past

48. A Moment's Halt -- a momentary taste

49. Would you that spangle of Existence spend

50. A Hair, they say, divides the False and True

51. Whose secret Presence, through Creation's veins

52. A moment guess'd -- then back behind the Fold

53. But if in vain, down on the stubborn floor

54. Waste not your hour, nor in the vain pursuit

55. You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse

56. For "IS" and IS-NOT though with Rule and Line

57. Ah, but my Computations, People say

58. And lately, by the Tavern Door agape

59. The Grape that can with Logic absolute

60. The mighty Mahmúd, Allah-breathing Lord

61. Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare

62. I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must

63. Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

64. Strange, is it not, that of the myriads who

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Song

With me along the strip of Herbage strown

lyrics: Edward Fitzgerald after Hakim Omar Khayyám

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