Ah, Love! Could Thou and I with Fate Conspire -- Omar Khayyam

Guest poem sent in by Nitesh Dixit

(Poem #1354) Ah, Love! Could Thou and I with Fate Conspire 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! -- Omar Khayyam

          (trans. Edward Fitzgerald)

I came across this Rubai almost a year back where it was scribbled to the
door of a friend's hostel room, by some previous occupant. And I recall these
lines to this day mainly because I kept on searching for the author and/or
the complete verse. I found them only yesterday when I again gave a google
search after so many days.

Somehow I felt it had to have more to it. Well, it doesn't and it is still
complete. Brings to mind the words of my literature professor: "A poem should
not mean but be". This one is.

Nitesh

[Martin adds]

I almost envy Nitesh the thrill of discovering the Rubaiyat for the first
time, and his wonderful observation that no, there isn't any more to the
quatrain, but that it is nonetheless complete (in itself a sentiment that
would not be out of place in Khayyam's opus).

martin

No One So Much As You -- Edward Thomas

Guest poem submitted by Nitesh Dixit:

(Poem #1174) No One So Much As You No one so much as you Loves this my clay, Or would lament as you Its dying day. You know me through and through Though I have not told, And though with what you know You are not bold. None ever was so fair As I thought you: Not a word can I bear Spoken against you. All that I ever did For you seemed coarse Compared with what I hid Nor put in force. My eyes scarce dare meet you Lest they should prove I but respond to you And do not love. We look and understand, We cannot speak Except in trifles and Words the most weak. For I at most accept Your love, regretting That is all: I have kept Only a fretting That I could not return All that you gave And could not ever burn With the love you have, Till sometimes it did seem Better it were Never to see you more Than linger here With only gratitude Instead of love - A pine in solitude Cradling a dove. -- Edward Thomas

I came across this poem while going through a battered book, an anthology of
English poems from the mid-20th century, and just fell for it. I like this
poem for the simple reason that it seems so honest in its presentation. How
often do we find ourselves responding to someone and not actually having
those same emotions... or so we feel to be the case. Perhaps it's the  same
for both the parties, perhaps all of us are merely responding to the other
and not recognising our own emotions.

nitesh.