The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam the 12th Century Persian philosopher , mathematician , atronomer and poet translated by the Victorian poet Edward FitzGerald Dreaming when Dawns left hand was in the sky . I heard a voice within the tavern cry "Awake my little ones and fill the cup Before life's Liquor in its cup be dry " And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before The Tavern shouted -- "Open then the Door! You know how little while we have to stay, And, once departed, may return no more." For some we loved, the loveliest and best That from His rolling vintage Time has pressed, Have drunk their glass a round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest But helpless pieces in the game He plays Upon this chequer-board of Nights and Days He hither and thither moves, and checks ... and slays Then one by one, back in the Closet lays "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." And we, that now make merry in the Room They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom, Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth Descend, ourselves to make a Couch -- for whom? “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!