The Unbeliever Knows His Koran Best.

The Wine-cup Is The Little Silver Well, Where Truth, If Truth There Be, Doth Dwell.

I Came Like Water, And Like Wind I Go.

I Wonder What The Vintners Buy One Half So Precious As The Stuff They Sell.

Oh, The Brave Music Of A Distant Drum!

But Helpless Pieces Of The Game He Plays Upon This Checker-board Of Nights And Days; Hither And Thither Moves, And Checks, And Slays, And One By One Back In The Closet Lays.