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Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the astronomer-poet of Persia

Edward Fitzgerald · 1921 · Scanned text · Free in the US

36,760 words · about 2 h 34 min to read

Period artwork: Interior of the Bodleian Library, 1845
About this edition

Scanned text — may contain errors · view original scans

Free in the US: this text is in the public domain in the United States; it may still be in copyright elsewhere.

Licence: PD · Library of Congress states the book is in the public domain and free to use and reuse (https://data.labs.loc.gov/digitized-books/README.html); published 1921, public domain asserted for the US only · Library of Congress, Selected Digitized Books (https://www.loc.gov/item/21018124); text via the Common Pile (CC BY 4.0 compilation, per-document rights preserved)

Text from Library of Congress, read from page scans by OCR and set out for reading on screen; no words of the book are rewritten or summarized. How RedLectern is built

About this book

Author
Edward Fitzgerald
Language
English
Published
1921
Length
36,760 words · about 2 h 34 min
Sections
6 reader sections
Text
Scanned text, read from page scans by OCR; may contain errors
Rights
Public domain in the United States

 

Contents (6)
  1. Front matter about 1 min
  2. Contents about 36 min
  3. II under 1 min
  4. IV under 1 min
  5. VI And David's Lips are lock't ; but in divine about 1 h 55 min
  6. Preface about 1 min

Continue:

Front matter

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Contents

PAGE

Purlishers' Note iii

Edward Fitzgerald (by Michael Kerney) 5

II

Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry,

"Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup "Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."

Ill

And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before The Tavern shouted — "Open then the Door!

"You know how little while we have to stay, "And, once departed, may return no more." 39

IV

Now the New Year reviving old Desires, The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,

Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

V

Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,

But still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields, And still a Garden by the Water blows.

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