Song Of A Dream
ONCE in the dream of a night I stood Lone in the light of a magical wood, Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang; And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang, And spirits
Nightfall In The City Of Hyderabad
SEE how the speckled sky burns like a pigeon’s throat, Jewelled with embers of opal and peridote. See the white river that flashes and scintillates, Curved like a tusk from the mouth of the
LEILI
THE serpents are asleep among the poppies, The fireflies light the soundless panther’s way To tangled paths where shy gazelles are straying, And parrot-plumes outshine the dying day. O soft! the lotus-buds upon the
Ode to H. H. The Nizam Of Hyderabad
DEIGN, Prince, my tribute to receive, This lyric offering to your name, Who round your jewelled scepter bind The lilies of a poet’s fame; Beneath whose sway concordant dwell The peoples whom your laws
To The God of Pain
UNWILLING priestess in thy cruel fane, Long hast thou held me, pitiless god of Pain, Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows, My tired breast girt with suffering, and my brows Anointed with perpetual
The Pardah Nashin
HER life is a revolving dream Of languid and sequestered ease; Her girdles and her fillets gleam Like changing fires on sunset seas; Her raiment is like morning mist, Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
My Dead Dream
HAVE YOU found me, at last, O my Dream? Seven eons ago You died and I buried you deep under forests of snow. Why have you come hither? Who bade you awake from your
The Poet's Love-Song
In noon-tide hours, O Love, secure and strong, I need thee not; mad dreams are mine to bind The world to my desire, and hold the wind A voiceless captive to my conquering song.
In Praise Of Henna
A KOKILA called from a henna-spray: Lira! liree! Lira! liree! Hasten, maidens, hasten away To gather the leaves of the henna-tree. Send your pitchers afloat on the tide, Gather the leaves ere the dawn
Life
CHILDREN, ye have not lived, to you it seems Life is a lovely stalactite of dreams, Or carnival of careless joys that leap About your hearts like billows on the deep In flames of
Ecstasy
Cover mine eyes, O my Love! Mine eyes that are weary of bliss As of light that is poignant and strong O silence my lips with a kiss, My lips that are weary of
Wandering Singers
WHERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet, Through echoing forest and echoing street, With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam, All men are our kindred, the world is our home.
A Love Song from the North
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha, Wouldst thou recall to my heart, papeeha, Dreams of delight that are gone, When swift to my side came the feet of my lover With stars
To A Buddha Seated On A Lotus
LORD BUDDHA, on thy Lotus-throne, With praying eyes and hands elate, What mystic rapture dost thou own, Immutable and ultimate? What peace, unravished of our ken, Annihilate from the world of men? The wind
An Indian Love Song
He Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon Of thy glory and grace, Withhold not, O love, from the night Of my longing the joy of thy luminous face, Give me a