ఈ పుట ఆమోదించబడ్డది
Rubaiyat
64
Said one—"Folks of a surly Tapster tell,
And daub his Visage with the Smoke of Hell ;
They talk of some strict Testing of us--Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."
65
Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
“My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry :
But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
Methinks I might recover by-and-by"
66
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
One spied the little Crescent all were seeking :
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother! I
Hark to the Porter's Shoulder-knot a-creaking."
56
