THE KASÎDAH IX, 89, 104

Thus, as thou view the Phantom-forms
 which in the misty Past were thine,
To be again the thing thou wast
 with honest pride thou may’st decline;

And, glancing down the range of years,
 fear not thy future self to see;
Resign’d to life, to death resign’d,
 as though the choice were nought to thee.

On Thought itself feed not thy thought;
 nor turn from Sun and Light to gaze,
At darkling cloisters paved with tombs,
 where rot the bones of bygone days:

“Eat not thy heart,” the Sages said;
 “nor mourn the Past, the buried Past;”
Do what thou dost, be strong, be brave;
 and, like the Star, nor rest nor haste.

THE KASÎDAH V, 37, 48

Yon glorious Sun, the greater light,
 the “Bridegroom” of the royal Lyre,
A flaming, boiling, bursting mine;
 a grim black orb of whirling fire:

That gentle Moon, the lesser light,
 the Lover’s lamp, the Swain’s delight,
A ruined world, a globe burnt out,
 a corpse upon the road of night.

What reckt he, say, of Good or Ill
 who in the hill-hole made his lair,
The blood-fed rav’ening Beast of prey,
 wilder than wildest wolf or bear?

THE KASÎDAH I, 9, 20

The highlands catch yon Orient gleam,
 while purpling still the lowlands lie;
And pearly mists, the morning-pride,
 soar incense-like to greet the sky.

The horses neigh, the camels groan,
 the torches gleam, the cressets flare;
The town of canvas falls, and man
 with din and dint invadeth air:

The Golden Gates swing right and left;
 up springs the Sun with flamy brow;
The dew-cloud melts in gush of light;
 brown Earth is bathed in morning-glow.