And from their pierced hearts, rich with pain,
Send forth their fragrance like a wail.
Or if perchance one perfumed tress
Be 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 throng
Of nightingales awake and strain
Their souls into a quivering song.
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EYES ravished with rapture, celestially panting, what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire
O wild and entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of desire,And beautiful dancers with houri-like faces bewitch the voluptuous watches of night.The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter and die in the maze of their gem-tangled hair,And smiles are entwining like magical serpents the poppies of lips…
O YOUTH, sweet comrade Youth, wouldst thou be gone?
Together drunk of many an alien dawn,And plucked the fruit of many an alien sky.Ah, fickle friend, must I, who yesterdayDreamed forwards to long, undimmed ecstasy,Henceforward dream, because thou wilt not stay,Backward to transient pleasure and to thee?I give thee back thy false, ephemeral vow;But, O beloved comrade, ere we part,Upon my mournful eyelids and…
Beloved, you may be as all men say
Of flickering flame set in loam of clay –I care not …since you kindle all my darkWith the immortal lustres of the day.And as all men deem, dearest, you may beOnly a common shellChance-winnowed by the sea-winds from the sea –The subtle murmurs of eternity.And tho’ you are, like men or mortal race,Only a hapless…
Men say the world is full of fear and hate,
The restless sickle of relentless fate.But I, sweet Soul, rejoice that I was born,When from the climbing terraces of cornI watch the golden orioles of Thy morn.What care I for the world’s desire and pride,Who know the silver wings that gleam and glide,The homing pigeons of Thine eventide?What care I for the world’s loud weariness,Who…
UNWILLING priestess in thy cruel fane,
Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows,My tired breast girt with suffering, and my browsAnointed with perpetual weariness.Long have I borne thy service, through the stressOf rigorous years, sad days and slumberless nights,Performing thine inexorable rites.For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,But mine own soul thou’st ta’en for sacrifice:All the rich honey of…
Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,The wild wind blows in a cloud.Hark to a voice that is callingTo my heart in the voice of the wind:My heart is weary and sad and alone,For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone,And why should I stay behind?