Edwin Arnold

He who died at Azan sends
This to comfort all this friends:
Faithful friends! It lies I read more

He who died at Azan sends
This to comfort all this friends:
Faithful friends! It lies I know
Pale and white and cold as snow;
And ye say, "Abdallah's dead!"
Weeping at the feet and head.
I can see your falling tears,
I can hear your sighs and prayers;
Yet I smile and whisper this:
I am not the thing you kiss.
Cease your tears and let it lie;
It was mine--it is not I.

The royal kingcup bold
Dares not don his coat of gold.

The royal kingcup bold
Dares not don his coat of gold.

Making all future fruits of all the pasts.

Making all future fruits of all the pasts.

We are the voices of the wandering wind,
Which moan for rest and rest can never find;
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We are the voices of the wandering wind,
Which moan for rest and rest can never find;
Lo! as the wind is so is mortal life,
A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife.

A little rain will fill
The lily's cup which hardly moists the field.

A little rain will fill
The lily's cup which hardly moists the field.