THE KASÎDAH I, 57, 68

Mine eyes, my brain, my heart, are sad,—
 sad is the very core of me;
All wearies, changes, passes, ends;
 alas! the Birthday’s injury!

Friends of my youth, a last adieu!
 haply some day we meet again;
Yet ne’er the self-same men shall meet;
 the years shall make us other men:

The light of morn has grown to noon,
 has paled with eve, and now farewell!
Go, vanish from my Life as dies
 the tinkling of the Camel’s bell.