Athwart the lotus-stream,
I bring for you,
Aglint with dew
A little lovely dream.
Sweet, shut your eyes,
The wild fire-fiies
Dance through the fairy neem;
From the poppy-bole
For you I stole
A little lovely dream.
Dear eyes, good-night,
In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
On you I press
With soft caress
A little lovely dream.
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LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne,
What mystic rapture dost thou own,Immutable and ultimate?What peace, unravished of our ken,Annihilate from the world of men?The wind of change for ever blowsAcross the tumult of our way,To-morrow’s unborn griefs deposeThe sorrows of our yesterday.Dream yields to dream, strife follows strife,And Death unweaves the webs of Life.For us the travail and the heat,The broken…
You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn,
You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon,Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune.Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment’s grace,You cry, ‘I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face.’Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss?Shall any fragile…
WHEN from my cheek I lift my veil,
And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain,Send forth their fragrance like a wail.Or if perchance one perfumed tressBe lowered to the wind’s caress,The honeyed hyacinths complain,And languish in a sweet distress.And, when I pause, still groves among,(Such loveliness is mine) a throngOf nightingales awake and strainTheir souls into a quivering song.
In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong,
The world to my desire, and hold the windA voiceless captive to my conquering song.I need thee not, I am content with these:Keep silence in thy soul, beyond the seas!But in the desolate hour of midnight, whenAn ectasy of starry silence sleepsAnd my soul hungers for thy voice, O then,Love, like the magic of wild…
QUEEN GULNAAR sat on her ivory bed,
Her chamber walls were richly inlaidWith agate, porphory, onyx and jade;The tissues that veiled her delicate breast,Glowed with the hues of a lapwing’s crest;But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed‘O King, my heart is unsatisfied.’King Feroz bent from his ebony seat:‘Is thy least desire unfulfilled, O Sweet?‘Let thy mouth speak and my life…
(Parvati at her lattice)
among my tresses,A jewelled clasp of shining gold to bind around my sleeve,O Love! were you the keora’s soul that hauntsmy silken raiment,A bright, vermilion tassel in the girdles that I weave;O Love! were you the scented fanthat lies upon my pillow,A sandal lute, or silver lamp that burns before my shrine,Why should I fear…