# The most famous quatrains of FitzGerald's Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

"A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread — and Thou", "The Moving Finger writes" and "I came like Water, and like Wind I go": the best-known quatrains of Edward FitzGerald's 1859 Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, with the quatrain number in the first edition.

- 344 votes · 21 items
- Aug 3, 2019 · Eric
- https://even.best/en/l/5113/the-most-famous-quatrains-of-fitzgerald-s-rubaiyat-of-omar-khayyam

## Top 21

1. **Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night / Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: / And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught …** (26 · ▲29 ▼3) — Quatrain I of the first edition (1859): Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night / Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight: / And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught / The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.
2. **Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring / The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: / The Bird of Time has but a little way …** (26 · ▲26 ▼0) — Quatrain VII of the first edition (1859): Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring / The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: / The Bird of Time has but a little way / To fly — and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.
3. **Ah! my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears / To-day of past Regrets and future Fears — / To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be …** (19 · ▲20 ▼1) — Quatrain XX of the first edition (1859): Ah! my Belovéd, fill the Cup that clears / To-day of past Regrets and future Fears — / To-morrow?—Why, To-morrow I may be / Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.
4. **"How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"—think some: / Others — "How blest the Paradise to come!" / Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest; …** (16 · ▲17 ▼1) — Quatrain XII of the first edition (1859): "How sweet is mortal Sovranty!"—think some: / Others — "How blest the Paradise to come!" / Ah, take the Cash in hand and wave the Rest; / Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!
5. **I sometimes think that never blows so red / The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; / That every Hyacinth the Garden wears …** (16 · ▲16 ▼0) — Quatrain XVIII of the first edition (1859): I sometimes think that never blows so red / The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; / That every Hyacinth the Garden wears / Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.
6. **With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, / And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: / And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd— …** (15 · ▲16 ▼1) — Quatrain XXVIII of the first edition (1859): With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, / And with my own hand labour'd it to grow: / And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd— / "I came like Water, and like Wind I go."
7. **The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, / But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes; / And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field, …** (14 · ▲17 ▼3) — Quatrain L of the first edition (1859): The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes, / But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes; / And He that toss'd Thee down into the Field, / He knows about it all — He knows — HE knows!
8. **Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, / A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou / Beside me singing in the Wilderness — …** (13 · ▲15 ▼2) — Quatrain XI of the first edition (1859): Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, / A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse — and Thou / Beside me singing in the Wilderness — / And Wilderness is Paradise enow.
9. **Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai / Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, / How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp …** (12 · ▲16 ▼4) — Quatrain XVI of the first edition (1859): Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai / Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day, / How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp / Abode his Hour or two, and went his way.
10. **Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! / That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close! / The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, …** (12 · ▲15 ▼3) — Quatrain LXXII of the first edition (1859): Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! / That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close! / The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, / Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
11. **Myself when young did eagerly frequent / Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument / About it and about: but evermore …** (12 · ▲13 ▼1) — Quatrain XXVII of the first edition (1859): Myself when young did eagerly frequent / Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument / About it and about: but evermore / Came out by the same door as in I went.
12. **Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise / To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; / One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; …** (11 · ▲12 ▼1) — Quatrain XXVI of the first edition (1859): Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise / To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; / One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; / The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.
13. **And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, / Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die, / Lift not thy hands to It for help — for It …** (9 · ▲10 ▼1) — Quatrain LII of the first edition (1859): And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, / Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die, / Lift not thy hands to It for help — for It / Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
14. **There was a Door to which I found no Key: / There was a Veil past which I could not see: / Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee …** (8 · ▲14 ▼6) — Quatrain XXXII of the first edition (1859): There was a Door to which I found no Key: / There was a Veil past which I could not see: / Some little Talk awhile of Me and Thee / There seemed — and then no more of Thee and Me.
15. **Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, / Before we too into the Dust Descend; / Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie, …** (8 · ▲12 ▼4) — Quatrain XXIII of the first edition (1859): Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, / Before we too into the Dust Descend; / Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie, / Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and — sans End!
16. **The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, / Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit / Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, …** (8 · ▲10 ▼2) — Quatrain LI of the first edition (1859): The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, / Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit / Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, / Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
17. **And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot / Some could articulate, while others not: / And suddenly one more impatient cried — …** (8 · ▲9 ▼1) — Quatrain LX of the first edition (1859): And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot / Some could articulate, while others not: / And suddenly one more impatient cried — / "Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?"
18. **'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days / Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: / Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, …** (5 · ▲9 ▼4) — Quatrain XLIX of the first edition (1859): 'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days / Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays: / Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays, / And one by one back in the Closet lays.
19. **Ah, fill the Cup: — what boots it to repeat / How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: / Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday, …** (5 · ▲8 ▼3) — Quatrain XXXVII of the first edition (1859): Ah, fill the Cup: — what boots it to repeat / How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: / Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday, / Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!
20. **Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire / To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, / Would not we shatter it to bits — and then …** (5 · ▲8 ▼3) — Quatrain LXXIII of the first edition (1859): Ah, Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire / To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, / Would not we shatter it to bits — and then / Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!
21. **And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, / And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — well, / I often wonder what the Vintners buy …** (4 · ▲6 ▼2) — Quatrain LXXI of the first edition (1859): And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel, / And robb'd me of my Robe of Honour — well, / I often wonder what the Vintners buy / One half so precious as the Goods they sell.

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