THE KASÎDAH V, 13, 24

What mortal shall consort with Khizr,
 when Musâ turned in fear to flee?
What man foresees the flow’er or fruit
 whom Fate compels to plant the tree?

For Man’s Free-will immortal Law,
 Anagkê, Kismet, Des’tiny read
That was, that is, that aye shall be,
 Star, Fortune, Fate, Urd, Norn or Need.

“Man’s nat’ural state is God’s design;”
 such is the silly sage’s theme;
“Man’s primal Age was Age of Gold;”
 such is the Poet’s waking dream:

THE KASÎDAH IV, 61, 72

“Say, Man, deep learnèd in the Scheme
 that orders mysteries sublime,
“How came it this was Jesus, that
 was Judas from the birth of Time?

“How I the tiger, thou the lamb;
 again the Secret, prithee, show
“Who slew the slain, bowman or bolt
 or Fate that drave the man, the bow?

“Man worships self: his God is Man;
 the struggling of the mortal mind
“To form its model as ’twould be,
 the perfect of itself to find.

THE KASÎDAH III, 169, 176

Silence thine immemorial quest,
 contain thy nature’s vain complaint
None heeds, none cares for thee or thine;—
 like thee how many came and went?

Cease, Man, to mourn, to weep, to wail;
 enjoy thy shining hour of sun;
We dance along Death’s icy brink,
 but is the dance less full of fun?

THE KASÎDAH III, 137, 152

How sore the burden, strange the strife;
 how full of splendour, wonder, fear;
Life, atom of that Infinite Space
 that stretcheth ’twixt the Here and There.

How Thought is imp’otent to divine
 the secret which the gods defend,
The Why of birth and life and death,
 that Isis-veil no hand may rend.

Eternal Morrows make our Day;
 our Is is aye to be till when
Night closes in; ’tis all a dream,
 and yet we die,—and then and THEN?

And still the Weaver plies his loom,
 whose warp and woof is wretched Man
Weaving th’ unpattern’d dark design,
 so dark we doubt it owns a plan.

THE KASÎDAH III, 125, 136

Hardly we find the path of love,
 to sink the self, forget the “I,”
When sad suspicion grips the heart,
 when Man, the Man begins to die:

Hardly we scale the wisdom-heights,
 and sight the Pisgah-scene around,
And breathe the breath of heav’enly air,
 and hear the Spheres’ harmonious sound;

When swift the Camel-rider spans
 the howling waste, by Kismet sped,
And of his Magic Wand a wave
 hurries the quick to join the dead

THE KASÎDAH III, 75, 90

A drop in Ocean’s boundless tide,
 unfathom’d waste of agony;
Where millions live their horrid lives
 by making other millions die.

How with a heart that would through love
 to Universal Love aspire,
Man woos infernal chance to smite,
 as Min’arets draw the Thunder-fire.

How Earth on Earth builds tow’er and wall,
 to crumble at a touch of Time;
How Earth on Earth from Shînar-plain
 the heights of Heaven fain would climb.

How short this Life, how long withal;
 how false its weal, how true its woes,
This fever-fit with paroxysms
 to mark its opening and its close.