Page:Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the astronomer-poet of Persia (IA ru00biytofomaromarrich).pdf/36

LXIII.

None answer'd this; but after Silence spake

A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
"What? did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

LXIV.

Said one—"Folks of a surly Tapster tell,

"And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell;
"They talk of some strict Testing of us—Pish!
"He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

LXV.

Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,

"My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
"But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
"Methinks I might recover by-and-bye!"

LXVI.

So, while the Vessels one by one were speaking,

One spied the little Crescent all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
"Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking!"
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