To Omar Khayyám by Gordon Bottomley Lyrics

Omar, the roses blossom by your grave,
And as the cool night-winds their petals lave
I hear your roses singing in the dark,
Dove-murmuring this fragmentary stave,
"Our life is from the earth that once was you;
Perchance in us your soul doth surge anew,
O poet; but we fall and leave no mark;
And only fatten earth, as you did too.
All ends in death, which is the seed of life,
For earth again shall make your roses rife:
Mourn not the fleeting flower, a transient spark
Flung from the immanent fire's unending strife."
The dream-winds swoon; the roses sing no more,
Omar, above your grave in Naishapûr.