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Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly--and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing. And look--a thousand Blossoms with the Day Woke--and a thousand scatter'd into Clay: And this first Summer Month that brings the Rose Shall take Jamsh{'y}d and Kaikobád away. But come with old Khayyám, and leave the Lot Of Kaikobád and Kaikhosrú forgot: Let Rustum lay about him as he will, Or Hátim Tai cry Supper--heed them not. With me along some Strip of Herbage strown That just divides the desert from the sown, Where name of Slave and Sultán scarce is known, And pity Sultán Mahmúd on his Throne. Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough, A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness-- And Wilderness is Paradise now. Be looking for you to write your own Rubaiyat. Todd
good luck david. I'm sure you'll do fine. Going into unfamiliar territory is nothing new for you. I can't wait for your stories.
Good luck and happy travels to you, may this journey take you exactly where you want to go.
vanessa
David, You're so badass. BTW exonerated is misspelled on your cool website.
August 20, 2008