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SANDHYA, SONGS OF TWILIGHT 
 
SANDHYA 
 
 SONGS OF TWILIGHT 
 
 BY 
 
 DHAN GOPAL MUJERKI 
 
 AUTHOR OF "LAYLA-MAJNU" 
 AND "RAJANI" 
 
 NINETEEN SEVENTEEN 
 
 PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO 
 
Copyright, igiy 
 By Paul Elder and Company / 
 
 San Francisco .^ ' '*'' <J* 
 
 ^ x4- 
 
 ^C!.A473276 
 
TO 
 MRS. HANCOCK BANNING 
 MRS. WILLIAM CLARK, JR. 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 T IKE^'Rajani'' [perhaps more than\'^ Sandhya' 
 '^is a slender rill that has drawn its music from 
 my Bengali which has told upon its English structure, 
 nis and many other faults of these poems are due to 
 their unyielding adherence to spontaneity, 
 
 '' Sandhya' came then, as "" RajanV in its own 
 way through the bed of my Bengali reflecting its sound 
 and sense, and trying to echo back its music that 
 descends on all with the fading twilight. 
 
 Dhan Gopal Mukerji. 
 
 A^. 5. — Since some of these poems were born without, and 
 defy titles y I have refrained from forcing any on them. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 POEM 
 
 Symbolism i 
 
 Source of Singing 2 
 
 'With purple shadows the mist measures the infinite sea" 3 
 
 'O, Old! O, New!" 4 
 
 'The FAR AWAY CALLED her" 5 
 
 Lassitude 6 
 
 'Ah! PALE, cool lips that burn" 7 
 
 Forlorn 8 
 
 After a Bengali Song 9 
 
 MOONRISE lo 
 
 At Ventura, California n 
 
 'The SAME AIR THAT YOU breathe" 12 
 
 'Why this RETURN?" 13 
 
 'By THE VERGE OF THE woodland" I4 
 
 The Dream of His Soul I5 
 
 The Eurasian i" 
 
 'In THE perfumed shrine OF love" 17 
 
 The Infirm Beggar Sings i8 
 
 'Kiss, my love, kiss" 19 
 
 Color-Harmonies 20 
 
 Sanatan (The Absolute) 21 
 
 Coming of the Fog 2a 
 
 'In love's afterglow, full OF stars" 23 
 
 The End 24 
 
 The Confluence 25 
 
 'In the deeps OF Dream" 26 
 
 To Leo B. Mihan 27 
 
 Chopin's Funeral March 28 
 
 "In the golden afterglow you lay" 29 
 
 Henrik Ibsen 3© 
 
 After Hearing "My Old Kentucky Home" ... 31 
 
 The Coming of the Tide of Night 32 
 
 Dead Love 33 
 
 "It is the same twilight, dear" 34 
 
 Weariness 35 
 
 "A call, NOT A song" 3^ 
 
 Remorse 37 
 
 Poet 38 
 
 Wanderer 39 
 
 page 
 3 
 4 
 5 
 6 
 8 
 
 lo 
 II 
 
 12 
 13 
 14 
 
 15 
 16 
 
 17 
 18 
 
 19 
 
 20 
 21 
 22 
 23 
 24 
 
 25 
 26 
 
 27 
 28 
 
 30 
 31 
 32 
 
 33 
 34 
 36 
 37 
 38 
 39 
 40 
 42 
 43 
 44 
 45 
 46 
 
 [VII] 
 
CONTENTS, Continued 
 
 POEM 
 
 At Dawn 40 
 
 'From HER MANY-COLORED BOW, Nature" .... 41 
 
 'If WORDS FAIL, SONG WILL come" 42 
 
 Rainy Night 43 
 
 Ghosts 44 
 
 Rain 45 
 
 Evening Worship 46 
 
 'The ROSY mist STILLY polishes THE ROUND mirror" . 47 
 
 'The sun's golden spear" 48 
 
 Truce 49 
 
 A Parallel 50 
 
 ' 'Nothing endures,' you said" 51 
 
 Disappointment 52 
 
 Buddha 53 
 
 'Ask me not to stand at thy friendship's gate" . , 54 
 
 'Golden vines they" 55 
 
 At Sundown 56 
 
 'Tears well out from my heart" 57 
 
 'At last THOU comest" 58 
 
 'The lingering light OF THE sun" 59 
 
 'i have drunk your tears with insatiate lips" . . 6o 
 
 Sound Butterflies (In a Fountain) 61 
 
 'Even IN SADNESS THOU ART BESIDE me" .... 62 
 
 By THE sea of SLEEP WALKS WHITE-ROBED Night" . . 62 
 
 Farewell (After a Hindustani Song) .... 64 
 
 Satiety 65 
 
 'Drowsy THE NOONDAY air" 66 
 
 Chatterton 67 
 
 'A summer song it was" 68 
 
 Who Knows" 69 
 
 The First Vision 70 
 
 Shanti 71 
 
 47 
 
 48 
 
 49 
 
 50 
 51 
 
 52 
 
 54 
 55 
 56 
 57 
 58 
 59 
 60 
 61 
 62 
 
 63 
 64 
 
 ^5 
 66 
 
 67 
 68 
 69 
 
 70 
 
 71 
 72 
 
 74 
 75 
 76 
 77 
 78 
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 82 
 
 [ VIII ] 
 
SANDHYA, SONGS OF TWILIGHT 
 
I 
 
 SYMBOLISM 
 
 Tongueless the bell ! 
 Lute without a song! 
 It is not night 
 It is God's dawn, 
 Silence its unending song. 
 
 Over heart 's valley, 
 In the soul 's night. 
 Through pain 's window 
 Behold! His light! 
 On Life 's Height. 
 
 No prayer, now. 
 Though death-waves roll. 
 Faith's candle lit. 
 Beside it sits the soul 
 Reading Eternity's scroll. 
 
 [3] 
 
2 
 SOURCE OF SINGING 
 
 A bruised heart, 
 A wounded soul, 
 
 A broken lute, 
 That is all! 
 
 A sad evening, 
 And a lone star. 
 
 Then song reddens — 
 Sets lifers forest afire! 
 
 4] 
 
With purple shadows the mist measures the 
 
 infinite sea 
 That spreads her wave-raiment in lavender, violet, 
 
 gray, and green; 
 While with thin silver rays a lone star seeks to 
 
 sound the deeps. 
 
 The breeze-wings tire of flight; 
 
 The mist-threads weave a rose-fringed dusky 
 
 drapery 
 To cover the bare breasts of the dunes from the 
 
 moon's langour-heavy eyes. 
 
 The shadows die in purple silence; 
 Fades the one star from the sky, 
 As the dark mist puts out the rose-red moon from 
 its deep. 
 
 Pale gleams the lighthouse light; 
 
 No warring waves break the peace of sleep tonight 
 
 Nor a hungry wind shrieks in pain from the lea. 
 
 Under her heavy veil of black 
 A languid sea sluggishly flows 
 To some far land of forsaken dreams. 
 
 [5] 
 
4 
 "O, OLD! O, NEW!"* 
 
 Who are you ? 
 
 Why make me wait 
 
 From the hour of dew 
 
 Till another sunset? 
 
 Why do I look 
 
 For your coming? 
 
 Listen to the weeping brook 
 
 That might bring 
 
 To my lonely shore 
 
 A word from you. 
 
 Ah, nothing! not a leafs tremor! 
 
 O, old ! O, longed for new ! 
 
 Who are you? I ask; 
 
 Know not why I seek 
 
 From day to dusk 
 
 Without waking or sleep, — 
 
 No sleep! no waking! 
 
 A dreaming, a longing; 
 
 Not knowing, yet seeking. 
 
 For your coming waiting — 
 
 O, spring-born ! 
 
 O, autumn-clad! 
 
 O, soul 's new morn ! 
 
 O, old !0, glad! 
 
 So glad, so young! 
 
 O, unseen, unknown, 
 
 O, fugitive vision! 
 
 O, eternal moan 
 
 In my heart — 
 
 *"0, Old! O, New!" is the cry of a "Poati," e. g., a mother's cry to her 
 unborn child. "Poati" has no precise English synonym. 
 
 6] 
 
O, tearful Soul of laughter, 
 
 Untouched, unhurt, 
 
 O, sweet! O, bitter! 
 
 My born yet unborn, 
 
 Shadow not fallen 
 
 O, undawning morn — 
 
 O, message unbroken. 
 
 Why, how, when ? 
 
 I wait, wait for you, 
 
 O embrace of earth and heaven; 
 
 0,01d!0,New! 
 
 [7I 
 
5 
 
 The far away called her — 
 
 A pilgrim on the hope-lit bark of youth, 
 
 A woman, a child, a soul 
 
 On an argosy for the lands of south. 
 
 It called her in her dreams; 
 
 Her waking into a deeper dream grew; 
 
 The flute of the distant 
 
 Played ceaselessly the music of the new. 
 
 With words of fire it called her, 
 Beyond the bourne of her days 
 To a silent sea of joy 
 Washed by unending twilight-rays. 
 
 It called her at dawn 
 
 When night shed the star-jewels from her 
 
 hair; 
 It called her at sunset 
 When the moon mutely ascended the 
 
 heaven's stair. 
 
 It called her without ceasing — 
 Hour after hour but a calling. 
 Till "Come, come, come!" 
 At her soul's door kept repeating: 
 
 18] 
 
Come, come, come! — in 
 Her word, her music, her song; 
 Far away, near, far again 
 Heedless of nightfall and dawn. 
 
 It called, it cried, it prayed. 
 Till She, the deity, made answer 
 Through youth, through age, through death 
 To her own far away's receding star. 
 
 [9 
 
LASSITUDE 
 
 Ah! to be able to sing, 
 To sorrow in melody; 
 To string with silver 
 Sorrow 's dark harp 1 
 
 Or, mount every thorn 
 Crowning life's brow 
 With lustrous stars — 
 Those tears of the sky 
 
 Rolling down its face 
 When night's hand puts 
 Darkness's crown on its head 
 As twilight dies. 
 
 None of these, for my soul; 
 
 Only to weep is given to me. 
 
 To nourish my heart's crop 
 
 For the scythe of barrenness to reap. 
 
 [lo] 
 
Ah ! pale cool lips that burn, 
 
 Body that yields, though unyielding. 
 
 Oh, moon with the heat of the sun ! 
 
 Flashing out a million lights 
 
 To cleave into nothing the endless 
 
 firmament of my being. 
 Take all; my soul's mistress! heart's queen. 
 The flaming fancies of my dream-tortured 
 
 night 
 The intoxicating fruits of my day dream, 
 Thefiery lotus of my senses' delight - 
 That rises from the abyss of my life. 
 The abysmal heaven of love and living 
 Now bruised, burnt, torn and thrown 
 To the winds of thy ravishing rejoicing 
 Whose inarticulate words of delight and 
 
 moan 
 Make the ever-yielding music of my soul. 
 
 [^11] 
 
8 
 FORLORN 
 
 In the star-blurred hours of the night 
 When the cloud-dams stay the flow of winds, 
 Not even the shadow of a meteor moves, 
 As in the watch-tower of love I sit; 
 Through the casement of hope look for thy 
 
 coming 
 Along the moss-grown path of stones — 
 Those agonies that time has built on my 
 
 soul — 
 By the unfathomable lake of my tears 
 Shed when even prayers had failed 
 To bring thy returning. 
 Come, destroyer of my peace and sleep, 
 Plunderer of lights of my days! 
 Enigma on the scroll of my fate 
 Before the lightnings fired my tower 
 And thunders crashed in my life's sky. 
 Only send the echo of thy footfalls — 
 The ring of thy song. 
 And a star — reflection of thy smile — 
 Those million suns in the firmament of my 
 
 dawn. 
 
 12 
 
9 
 AFTER A BENGALI SONG 
 
 In the forest of my being the voice of your lute; 
 In the depth of my heart the pearl of your tear; 
 In the temple of my soul chimes the bell of your 
 love. 
 
 The fire of dawn, shadow of eve. 
 
 Life's sorrow, and death's mute-enchanting peace 
 
 Steal away silently, fearfully, at thy flute's music. 
 
 O, frail, faint call which I seek to echo! 
 
 O, breath of love laden with the aroma of my soul! 
 
 Why seek I ever without, O guest at my door? 
 
 13] 
 
lO 
 
 MOONRISE 
 
 A soft light mantle of rose wear the brown hills 
 As they look down on the valley where the rills 
 Spin their long silver embroideries 
 For the fringe of spring's greened draperies. 
 
 The cloud-banks recede with the fading breeze, 
 The warblers fall into silence in the trees 
 To listen to many-colored dream-melodies 
 That the mute stars make on sleep's endless seas. 
 
 The last light flickers out of the sky, 
 Shadows with golden feet o'er the green valley hie; 
 The silver rills trill like warblers from earth's deeps 
 As the moon, the sun of another dawn, heavenward 
 leaps. 
 
 14] 
 
II 
 
 AT VENTURA, CALIFORNIA 
 
 The moon rises and washes the brine with 
 
 silver; 
 The dunes like white elephants restfully asleep 
 
 after the chase; 
 And the fog comes to bring the moon its veil 
 
 of shades. 
 The waves stretch their phosphorescent arms 
 To embrace the night, 
 
 The wind like a wounded gull beats its wings 
 Over the land, over the sea, into the fog-vested 
 
 intangibility. 
 
 Like a thousand trumpets the breakers 
 Proclaim the empiry of night, 
 The rocky caverns send back echoes 
 Like homage from vassals near and far; 
 A faint cry seemeth to flash like lightning; 
 Through the clouds of the roar of waves: 
 It is not from the rocks, nor from the sea; 
 Ah ! it is the prayer of a mightier ocean — 
 Humanity! 
 
 [15 
 
12 
 
 The same air that you breathe 
 
 Is the air that caresses my sky; 
 
 The sunlight that lingers on your hair and lips 
 
 Sets fire to the pathway of my life; 
 
 And the call of nature's numberless birds 
 
 But reflects in world's mirror the music of our 
 
 heart's singing — 
 Melody-made of sweet agonies, 
 Exquisite joys poured from pitchers of pain, 
 As this summer's heat 
 From the ever-burning heart of heaven. 
 Not heaven alone; 
 
 The earth, the air, flowers, and leaves 
 Filled with passion that knows no slaking. 
 Yet tranquil like sleep's dream-billowed sea. 
 More than dream-billowed sea this love that I 
 
 bring. 
 Its boistrous waves seek the firmament of your 
 
 yielding; 
 While your heart-beats' arrows seek to slay my 
 
 heart a'beating. 
 As I inhale the fragrance of your breath and hair; 
 And pour the perfume of my soul 
 On your sun-bathed feet. 
 
 i6] 
 
13 
 
 Why this return ? 
 
 Why this sunlight 
 
 When all seemed without sun ? 
 
 Whence this call? 
 
 I cannot tell. 
 
 Yet its mighty thralls 
 
 Hold me, haunt me 
 Hour after hour. 
 With its name of thee. 
 
 All seems ended, 
 
 The last Hght lost 
 
 In the house of the dead. 
 
 Yet with time's tide 
 
 Rises thy face. 
 
 My heart, my soul, my bride. 
 
 Though poureth the rain. 
 And sorrow clouds my sky, 
 Yet not mine the pain. 
 
 What I hear 
 I can not tell. 
 And what I fear 
 
 Will not endure: 
 
 But thou returnest, 
 
 O serene, O silent, O pure! 
 
 [17] 
 
14 
 
 By the verge of the woodland. 
 
 Where purling brooks loosen their brown 
 
 tresses. 
 Where the music of the breeze 
 Is played on viols of the vines and trees, 
 Thy soft words I hear 
 Like songs from enchantment's strings. 
 Ah, vanishing moments of ecstacy ! 
 Far-fleeing only to be nearer to my soul. 
 Rest, rest awhile on the hillside of my 
 
 echoing! 
 Pour on it the sweet rain of thy words* 
 
 melody 
 Till they mingle and drown my tears 
 Into thy kisses* passion-swept sea. 
 
 i8] 
 
15 
 
 THE DREAM OF HIS SOUL 
 
 The Dream of his Soul, in flesh and 
 
 blood — 
 Not to possess, but only to see — 
 Was given him, for an hour: 
 Ah, fool, he lingered longer, — 
 The Dream died like the shadow of a 
 
 Star! 
 
 [19] 
 
i6 
 
 THE EURASIAN 
 
 Indignity your part today, 
 
 Suffering the guerdon of the gods; 
 
 No country to claim your own, 
 
 Nowhere to lay your head. 
 
 The ocean of ignorance separates us; 
 
 The snow-storm of commerce blinds the 
 eye; 
 
 Yet you must stand true, 
 
 Bridge of blood and flesh between the 
 West and East. 
 . In ages to come, when 
 
 Man will love his brother. 
 
 Irrespective of birth and breed; 
 
 In the pantheon of the future, yours the 
 immortal seat. 
 
 Son of man, you are brother! 
 
 Bearer of the cross of God ! 
 
 Your destiny the lodestar of our epoch. 
 
 Your life our rood-littered road of the 
 Lord. 
 
 Arise, awake, halt not 
 
 Till the goal is reached; 
 
 Raise high the Host of freedom 
 
 Blare the trumpet of light. 
 "Suffer you, for the world to rejoice"; 
 "Die" so they "can live"; 
 
 Live that you may bring the light 
 
 To the meeting place of the West and 
 East. 
 
 20 
 
I? 
 
 In the perfumed shrine of love, 
 
 Where burns memory's exhaustless incense 
 
 From the irridescent thurible of hope, 
 
 On the altar and couch of my heart 
 
 Rest thy limbs, O, god of my soul. 
 
 Drink of the unquenchable draught of caresses; 
 
 Tear the flowers of my dreams and fancies; 
 
 Scatter the sacred petals of my passion 
 
 To the four winds of thy rejoicing. 
 
 Thy rejoicing, that one festival of the High Gods, 
 Where no offering that I bring ever be too dear. 
 Where no soul burnt in the fire of senses can perish; 
 Where no suffering fails to be mother and 
 
 daughter of joy. 
 Take all, great God among these Gods: 
 The pearl of my woman-soul buried in deeps of 
 
 passion. 
 The coral-wreath from the ocean of my bleeding 
 
 heart; 
 And ravish with exquisite merciless touch 
 The one star in my heaven that has led thee 
 
 hither — 
 My life's eternity in this worship of an hour. 
 
 [21] 
 
I8 
 
 THE INFIRM BEGGAR SINGS 
 
 Broken and bruised by the hand of Fate, 
 
 Dark night, my staff. 
 Leaning on its shadowy strength I walk 
 
 Toward thee, my God. 
 Thy crescent my e'er-present friend; 
 
 Thy wind, thy voice. 
 Calls me to go on without end 
 
 To thy star that my soul hath seen. 
 The hour is black, my road unbuilt; 
 
 My beggar's song 
 I cannot sing; yet, thou knowest. 
 
 For thy love I long! 
 I come, O Lord! broken and battered 
 
 To thy world where sorrow is not. 
 
 [22] 
 
19 
 
 Kiss, my love, kiss 
 
 My burning, breaking being; 
 
 So when cold death 
 
 Will put out the light 
 
 In some wilderness 
 
 Of far forsaken life 
 
 Might each kiss blossom 
 
 Into a lotus and a Shephali.* 
 
 And in the desolate hours 
 
 Of loneliness of traveling 
 
 In the dusk of despair 
 
 One petal of these 
 
 Will cheer the vagrant souls 
 
 That tread the pathway 
 
 Of love's forsaking. 
 
 Or, when Death will sow 
 
 This Soul of mine 
 
 On the lake-shore of sorrow. 
 
 Like a weeping willow I will spring, 
 
 And with my green tresses 
 
 And bending body 
 
 Shall shelter secrecy-seeking lovers 
 
 That love for an hour. 
 
 As our twin hearts today. 
 
 Kiss then, with kisses of flame; 
 
 Touch me with rosy caresses; 
 
 Bury this, my hope, my dream, 
 
 And thy all-conquering love of me; 
 
 So the kiss-flowers may each be a 
 
 dream! 
 May my willow be the vision of 
 
 Eternal Spring. 
 
 *Flovvers full of perfume, abounding in Lower Bengal, India. 
 
 [23] 
 
20 
 COLOR-HARMONIES 
 
 Violet hills, 
 
 Rosy mist, 
 
 Limpid pool. 
 
 Golden notes from sunset's lute 
 
 For shadows 
 
 Draped in green 
 
 With purple feet 
 
 To dance and swim 
 
 Through irridescent undulatings. 
 
 Dusk descends; 
 
 Mauve cloudlets — 
 
 Dying butterflies — 
 
 Flit and fly and die 
 
 In the opalescent ocean of mist 
 
 That grows dark and still. 
 
 Kisses away the last gold 
 
 From the brow of the hills; 
 
 Till the coral crescent 
 
 With its wand of breeze 
 
 Makes silver ripple-music 
 
 On the pool's shadow-laden deeps. 
 
 iH 
 
21 
 
 SANATAN 
 (THE ABSOLUTE)* 
 
 Our hopes that fail 
 
 Are but truths that set 
 
 To illumine other spirits on their pathway; 
 
 As our joys that come true 
 
 Are their far-off dreams. 
 
 That through the cadence of our life 
 
 Ring out their pent-up tunes. 
 
 Whatever dies — needs must live. 
 
 Whatever breathes doth die too; 
 
 But above death and life 
 
 Shines that High Light 
 
 Where all find rest, 
 
 Yet endlessly move. 
 
 *The word absolute is the synonym for the Sanskrit word Sanatan, mean- 
 ing Eternal and Immutable 'Truth. 
 
 [25] 
 
22 
 
 COMING OF THE FOG 
 
 Killing the light, 
 Blurring the stars, 
 Marring the breeze — 
 Nature's many-stringed harp — 
 
 It comes 
 
 Silently, sinisterly, 
 
 Over the land, over the sea, 
 
 Spreading its beggar-raiment of brown. 
 
 Without stop, without sound. 
 Over the valley 
 Like a great serpent of silence 
 Coiling around the heart of sound. 
 
 A damp insidiousness 
 Creeps into the night; 
 A drab numbness sets in 
 Dripping in lugubrious drops 
 From the haggard fingers 
 Of the autumn trees. 
 
 It strangles the last sound, 
 It devours the last light, 
 Trembles in fear 
 To see its own visage; 
 
 It moves on, on, and around. 
 Ceaselessly, untiringly. 
 Till the black night is drowned 
 In an abyss of brown. 
 
 [26] 
 
23 
 In lovers afterglow, full of stars, 
 Those lilies of the river of night, 
 Sing no song, dear, speak no word. 
 
 The white noontide has ebbed into gold; 
 Shore-breaking seas cease to roar; 
 Lo! the moonrise of our soul. 
 
 Hardly a kiss, or the shadow of a caress; 
 No decking the hour with the jasmines of 
 
 touch; 
 But a rose-petal shivering in exquisite agony- 
 
 our love. 
 
 The weary sunset has grown wearier; 
 
 A vague lassitude encircles us twain, 
 
 As separation builds its pathway of tears. 
 
 Cease weeping, yet the saffron light lingers; 
 The stars throb in nebulous lustre, 
 As our hearts to the music of desire. 
 
 What matters if winter be nigh? 
 
 We sang summer to sleep. 
 
 And autumn on its bed of leaves. 
 
 Now comes the hour of parting for us, 
 As the last light flickers and fades; 
 Even love's afterglow dying, and is dead. 
 
 Alas! thou art gone, as are the hours of day; 
 The hard gem-burning stars do not set ! Oh, 
 In what dark, in what forest roamest thou? 
 
 [27] 
 
24 
 THE END 
 
 Art thou about me 
 
 Amid falling leaves 
 
 And autumn 's circling winds 
 
 When the golden shadows 
 
 Grow russet and rosy 
 
 And the purple sunset sets fire to the sky? 
 
 Art thou the breath 
 
 That burns my being 
 
 When cold feel my limbs in terror, and 
 
 awe? 
 Who art thou ? My love ? 
 Stranger in a strange garb ! 
 Far and farther to be nearer to my heart! 
 Why make spring-flames leap 
 From passion 's autumn leaves ? 
 Why this urge through fatigue 
 When time falls fast asleep 
 Under the shadow of its grave — 
 The winter ice? 
 Yet, and yet 
 The circling winds 
 Repeat passionate speech. 
 The sunset burns. 
 As my soul 
 In desire's golden heat. 
 
 28 
 
Though night be not far 
 
 Shadows creep near 
 
 With chilling breath and clutching hands 
 
 To pluck 
 
 To destroy 
 
 The flowers of yielding from your heart : 
 
 Powerless, fear-stricken ; 
 
 I tremble, I stagger, I fall 
 
 Into oblivion's pit 
 
 As time creeps 
 
 Into winter's grave 
 
 Silent, empty, white. 
 
 [29 
 
25 
 
 THE CONFLUENCE 
 
 Tears of Ages come in a stream, 
 Sighs flow in from Life's hoary height, 
 Souls of Sorrow bring their gleam 
 Of a light that is but a moan, not a sight. 
 
 The gray waves of the Sea of Death 
 Congeal under the cold Sun of Suffering, 
 While Time, playing the flute of Fate, 
 Charms them, snake-like, and doth bring 
 
 Out of a Cave, beyond Lights and Shades 
 Present's storm, — made stormier by Future's 
 
 promises, — 
 To mingle in the Ocean of Death 
 Like Sleep, yielding to Dream's caresses. 
 
 30 
 
26 
 
 In the deeps of Dream 
 
 O'er the pool of Sleep 
 
 A lone star her face 
 
 Seeking, with song-kindled eyes 
 
 Her Isle of Rest. 
 
 Across the dusky hills 
 The first flush of waking 
 Unfurls its silver banner 
 To signal the Isle for her: 
 She vanishes, as before, into 
 the fading Night. 
 
 Thus the Eye of Life 
 Searches for the home of Peace 
 Night after night: 
 And when the sun of Death rises 
 It flees, — it loves its own night. 
 
 31] 
 
27 
 
 TO 
 
 LEO B. MIHAN 
 
 Few notes out of the coffer of sound, 
 An image from the gallery of Nature, 
 An hour from the infinity of Time, — 
 Out of these, blessed creature. 
 Greatest thou the world of endless rhyme! 
 
 [32 
 
28 
 CHOPIN'S FUNERAL MARCH 
 
 The keyboard black and white; 
 Shadow-Light the Evening's scale; 
 Half silent the voice of thy singing. 
 Quiver the notes in pain; 
 Exquisite, sad, the melody at thy touch; 
 Like the silver arrow of Desire 
 Piercing the Soul 's golden heart. 
 
 The room is lost in dark. 
 The ivory keys, white fringe 
 Of a music long since mute; 
 Yet, in the black night 
 Tremble and toss notes 
 Unheard, undreamt, — like sleep 
 Sleepless, and waking full of smart. 
 
 33] 
 
29 
 
 In the golden afterglow you lay, 
 
 When the emerald nioon 
 
 Made thin silver fog-veils 
 
 For the bride of night. 
 
 Whose saffron-sandled feet 
 
 Walked the foam-strewn floor of the sea. 
 
 In my arms you listened 
 
 To words of love 
 
 Poured by the infinite heaven of my 
 
 heart, 
 Echoed by the endless symphony of the 
 
 sky. 
 Your silent gaze, 
 Deeper than the song of the sea. 
 Farther than the moon. 
 Nearer than your own heart-beat. 
 Asked mine for speech. 
 "What can my love say 
 At this sad sacred hour?" 
 Hour of parting this! 
 Love's ever-feared moment. 
 Longing 's much-dreaded end, 
 Yet no voice sorrows in our being, 
 No woe dims the moon-face tonight. 
 
 34 
 
Between the sheltering dunes and fading 
 
 light 
 On an aerial couch lying, 
 Adorned in kiss-woven garments of 
 
 nudity 
 Our spirits garlanded with myriad 
 
 embraces, 
 Borne on passion 's flaming wings 
 Cross this ocean of parting 
 Unto that far island of Cythera 
 Where only love reigns 
 In eternal majesty. 
 
 35 
 
30 
 HENRIK IBSEN 
 
 Lone as the lone north star, 
 
 Stern as the rocks that guard the sanctity 
 
 of his home, 
 Pure as the white snow of his land. 
 And beauteous his visions like the fjords 
 At each turn of the mariner 's helm. 
 
 The lofty glaciers engage his eyes. 
 As life's height the sight of his mind; 
 And his Imagination, expansive as the sea. 
 Tries to push the boundary-line of the sky, 
 
 his Soul, 
 Further and further, where a new North 
 
 Star 
 Awaits his exploring eye. 
 
 [36 
 
31 
 AFTER HEARING "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME" 
 
 I know not whose the words, 
 
 Nor the maker of their music; 
 In my sorrow-laden heart 
 The aroma of its pathetic art 
 
 Like the soothing breath of dream. 
 
 Joy borrows its charm from sorrow; 
 Sorrow feverish with the color of joy; 
 
 An opaque crystal, a stone on hfe's 
 string 
 
 Made of music that doth ring 
 As the stars on the lyre of night. 
 
 A pain it is, made perfect; 
 
 A call made clear by the voice of peace; 
 A silver stream of song 
 Darkened, yet floweth on and on 
 
 Between black banks of memory, into the 
 Soul's white home. 
 
 37 
 
32 
 THE COMING OF THE TIDE OF NIGHT 
 
 Pale this twilight-face, 
 Shade-ridden the horizon-light; 
 The forest, a green-gold vision of grace 
 In its frame of lavender mist. 
 
 No rose-leaf washed in moonlight; 
 No vine on vermilion walls; 
 Pale sunlight fading into night, 
 Dark tunes, the music of the hour. 
 
 No death, nor life is ours, here; 
 But the vast vague sea of black 
 Sounded by star-mariners 
 Seeking the Infinite's track. 
 
 38 
 
33 
 
 DEAD LOVE 
 
 Pour no blood on ashes, brother, 
 
 That is not the way; 
 
 Better say nothing, 
 
 Blood is no life-giver; 
 
 It makes death look so gay. 
 
 Dead life, or dead love 
 
 Need no blood at all. 
 
 No trumpet's call can 
 
 Bring back what you lived, and strove: 
 
 The ashes know no thrall! 
 
 Why cry for a colored glass 
 That for jewel you took; 
 The magic — the dream — 
 All returning to dust and grass. 
 Not a day love your soul forsook. 
 
 At last, you have known it. 
 
 That is more than they do. 
 
 Be not afraid, O friend. 
 
 Alone, alas, alone! you have loved and 
 
 lived it. 
 Pour no blood on the ashes, for blood can 
 
 not turn into dew. 
 
 39] 
 
34 
 
 It is the same twilight, dear, 
 The hour of love and tear 
 When in raiments of shadows 
 Fancies, fears, hopes, and sorrows 
 Tread the path of sunset, 
 While like barks of jet 
 Float the clouds from east to west. 
 
 I think of thee, my darling. 
 
 As in my heart strange chords ring 
 
 Out melodies of many memories. 
 
 And half-forgotten reveries 
 
 Telling of this or that scene, 
 
 That is and has been 
 
 Trod by thee. Queen of queens. 
 
 My dreams of thee are ceaseless. 
 As my love of thee is endless; 
 Whether it be sunset or sunrise, 
 Hour of star-song, or bird-cries 
 It is of thee that I dream, 
 In the heart of my soul's stream 
 That flows to thy feet, my darling. 
 
 [40] 
 
Dark grows both east and west; 
 Flower-heads droop into rest, 
 As I seek to lay my heart and loving 
 On thy star-white breast, my darling, 
 And sink into that pool of sleep 
 That rises from thy singing's deep, 
 While all are silent, as my desires near 
 thee, my Queen. 
 
 What peace thy presence breathes! 
 What serenity weaves its wreathes ! 
 What myriad wonders touch hands 
 Across many seas, from many lands, 
 When a thought of thee 
 Heralds thy coming to me 
 Between palpitating desires, and fragrant 
 dreams. 
 
 [41] 
 
3S 
 WEARINESS 
 
 Weariness the tune of this evening melody, 
 
 Pain the lute to which I sing; 
 
 Ah! goddess, why this gray measure 
 
 In thy starry harmony? 
 
 The white conch* of the half-moon 
 Silent as though all worship's ceased. 
 No incense-perfume from the forest censer 
 The breeze brings; all still, like torrid noon. 
 
 I row in a black bark on a copper-colored 
 
 sea. 
 The sun fades like a golden bubble in its 
 
 deep; 
 Weariness the chart that I hold in my hand. 
 Weariness the tune of this evening melody. 
 
 *In a Hindu temple conch shells are blown during or at the close ot a 
 worship. 
 
 [42] 
 
36 ■ 
 
 A call, not a song; 
 
 A command, not a prayer; 
 
 No mellowing moonlight, but dawn, 
 
 Frail, fanciful, and fair 
 
 In the east of my dream and desire. 
 
 At the portal of unending desire. 
 
 Draped in diaphanous dreams. 
 
 With a whispered word of fire 
 
 That quivers and gleams 
 
 Through the clouds of my longing. 
 
 Longings poignant with pains and tears 
 
 Enfold, and fill my soul 
 
 That aches with hopes and fears 
 
 As thy chariot wheels' roll 
 
 Sets fire with torches of gold 
 
 To my words, my silences, my singing. 
 
 And to this black pyre of my life 
 
 To take my being on the wings of thy 
 
 embracing 
 To sail away, far away from man 's hate and 
 
 strife 
 Where only love reigns on its throne of 
 
 unending light. 
 
 43 
 
37 
 REMORSE 
 
 Gently descending dark — 
 Curtain of silence 
 From heaven to earth; 
 
 The drama of day over, 
 Empty the seats of life, 
 Dead the twilight fire. 
 
 Curtains of black 
 
 Woven from threads of purple 
 
 By the hands of a star. 
 
 That lone soul weeping 
 Over the dead hours 
 Laid by mute time in the eternal's 
 grave. 
 
 In the night of my soul 
 
 Not even a ray, 
 
 Nor a mourner present; 
 
 But a deep dark hollow 
 Where no fate weeps 
 Even fear is afraid to tread: 
 
 Fear-forsaken, hollow within hollow. 
 Even silence flees from me — 
 O, the pity of it! 
 
 44] 
 
38 
 POET 
 
 To distil a few golden drops of song 
 
 Through the gloom of this hour; 
 
 To filter true emotions 
 
 Through passion 's burning fire 
 
 When the sun bubble-like fades in the west; 
 
 As our being craves for night's rest 
 
 That pool of silver in life's forest of distress. 
 
 To light some pale candles 
 
 In the cavern of a lonely isle 
 
 And draw the wine of day 
 
 From the must of midnight, 
 
 Or plant a star-seed in the gray-ploughed 
 
 eve — 
 So out of the abyss of the blackness of night 
 Dawn's million-colored fountain might 
 
 spring. 
 
 [45] 
 
39 
 WANDERER 
 
 The silvery beach, a riband around the flowing hair 
 
 of the sea. 
 Where gleam the foam-flowers garlanded in 
 
 multitudinous nebulous rings: 
 Here, on the frontier of many worlds and the 
 
 billow-rocked cradle of eternal sleep. 
 No sound, no music, no silence that a wounded 
 
 soul can heal. 
 
 A longing more tempestuous than the craven 
 
 breeze-possessed deep. 
 And tears that outweigh the salt of the woeful 
 
 brine, 
 Yet no sleep dream-robbed, or dream-laden, nor 
 
 even death's pallid peace; 
 But a ceaseless crying over my heart 's forsaken 
 
 valleys 
 Where love Hke a wraith haunts the empty tombs 
 
 of memory. 
 
 46 
 
40 
 
 AT DAWN 
 
 With the breath of dawn 
 
 CooHng thy feverish brow, 
 
 And the fading of the last footfall of the 
 
 stars 
 No kiss can I bring to thy bedside. 
 Nor caresses of coohng fire, my sweet. 
 Yet through this dreamful silence 
 That writes on the rim of the golden light 
 The story of our love 
 With most eloquent poignancy. 
 More love we pour into each other 
 Than the tryst of an eternal night. 
 
 47 
 
41 
 
 From her many-colored bow Nature 
 Has hurled her silver arrows of rain 
 And slain the hosts of Dark. 
 
 Jeweled with a single star, the Moon 
 
 Walks the garden of Night; 
 
 Higher and higher 
 
 Through the star-enflowered pathways of 
 
 sapphire 
 She draws her train of silver. 
 
 48 
 
42 
 
 If words fail, song will come; 
 
 If thought fades, souls will not be dumb; 
 
 If sound ceases, Silence our song; 
 
 If Life fails, — Death join our hands. 
 
 49] 
 
43 
 RAINY NIGHT 
 
 Like tears shed over a dream. 
 Like sighs that stream 
 In an unseen nameless way 
 Into the heart of our lay. 
 
 It seemed hour on hours. 
 Years like fading flowers 
 Scattered their petals and bloom 
 In a half-ht forest of gloom. 
 
 The softness of its sounds, 
 Like the coursing of a million hounds 
 Of dream over the glade of sleep 
 Where tortured silences creep. 
 
 Exquisite, pain-laden, peaceful. 
 This night most beautiful. 
 What love forsaken by loving 
 Sets his heart a'singing? 
 
 No torment in it, but tenderness; 
 A liquid star-music of sadness 
 Pours into my soul half asleep; 
 While the willows at my window weep. 
 
 50] 
 
44 
 GHOSTS 
 
 Flames flickered in the fireplace, 
 As memories on the hearth of life; 
 Two shadows we, watching, brooding, 
 To catch our reflection 
 In a non-existent stream. 
 
 The ghost- witness of it all, 
 The clock brings its proofs; 
 Moments melt into moments, 
 Like notes of sad music, 
 Like a white cerement 
 
 Cold memories shroud our life; 
 Speech flees before this; 
 Faces turn away from each other; 
 The fire throws light on them; 
 There, too, flames burn and flicker. 
 
 51 
 
45 
 RAIN 
 
 What world-agony distils its poignancy this 
 
 day? 
 What pain-laden heart pours out its 
 
 exhaustless lay 
 Of tormenting woe and tortured silences ? 
 
 From the far reaches of the marshland 
 Along and beyond the crescent-bed of the 
 
 sea-sand 
 What tempest on the wave's-strings makes its 
 
 cadences ? 
 
 The distant hills dimmed like dull and 
 
 forgotten dreams 
 Raise their shadowy heads where pour in 
 
 streams 
 The tears of the heart-hollowed mourners of 
 
 the skies; 
 
 While into the turgid heart of the fens at 
 
 their feet 
 Turbidly fall and dance sheet upon sheet 
 To the measureless measure of the wind *s 
 
 empty sighs. 
 
 No light but a dismal gray, that neither 
 throbs nor quivers 
 
 On the torn banks of the heavens ' cloud- 
 rivers. 
 
 But stonily stands still, like death that dies 
 never. 
 
 52 
 
Not dead, but a weeping world bathing its 
 
 corpses — 
 Its memories, its lost hopes, in regret's hearses 
 To be buried in flowerless graves, without 
 
 incense or prayer. 
 
 It writhes in agony, rolls out in undulating 
 
 rills. 
 This rain-melody from the sea-waves to the 
 
 farthest hills. 
 Thence to the dreary distance lost to hearing 
 
 or sight. 
 
 It is all dark and dank, a mourning of earth 
 and heaven. 
 
 Sorrow-laden, life-weary, long-lost, death- 
 craven, 
 
 A day lost to time, a light more baleful than 
 night. 
 
 No dead these, but a living death seeking 
 
 peace 
 From the furies — their own thoughts — 
 
 sorrow — surcease. 
 Kissing the lashing wind thinking it to be the 
 
 breeze. 
 
 Pour, pour, pour, O relentless, exhaustless 
 
 pain ! 
 To the measure of thine own agony, thy woe's 
 
 refrain. 
 These desolate streams of thy music, thy 
 
 pangs of a million seas. 
 
 53 
 
46 
 
 EVENING WORSHIP 
 
 The amber west melts into saffron. 
 The east, a misty vision of rose: 
 Like the sun, our souls seek repose. 
 The mountains, empurpled priests. 
 The river, the chant from their lips, 
 Sunlit the pine-candles' crimson tips. 
 
 At this hour of worship 
 
 Shadows spread their wings; 
 
 Silently the breeze-bell rings. 
 
 The stars put a silver riband round night's 
 
 tresses. 
 The light fades like a receding song 
 As fall soundless sounds from Nature's 
 
 moon-gong. 
 
 54 
 
47 
 
 The rosy mist stilly polishes the round 
 mirror, 
 
 The moon; 
 Golden her face 
 Reflecting the cool sweet glory of a 
 Baby sun 
 When dangling 
 His short golden arms in the cradle of 
 the sky 
 
 After night 
 Gave him birth, 
 And herself died as day dies to see the 
 moon. 
 
 This golden 
 Rose-washed stone 
 That the unseen hand puts on the crown 
 of night 
 
 Beside it puts 
 Bits of white — 
 The star-jewels like million fancies, 
 worshipping 
 
 The goddess 
 Of dream. 
 
 [55] 
 
48 
 
 The sun *s golden spear, 
 
 The violet cloud writhing in pain; 
 
 Golden the tint of the sky. 
 
 The tall trees wave their green-gold hair. 
 
 Music of this hour! 
 The zephyr's perfume-laden argosy 
 Drifts with the song of lutes 
 Down the sunset-stream that falls from 
 heaven 's bower. 
 
 Another flow of light, 
 
 TinkHng like the intangible bells of paradise, 
 Flows out of my heart 
 Into the mysterious love-perfumed ocean 
 of night. 
 
 56] 
 
49 
 TRUCE 
 
 A field of battle — this sky, 
 
 The sun, the hero bleeding to death; 
 
 The shadows and lights hurl their 
 
 Hosts of clouds ceaselessly: 
 
 No peace ? 
 
 Warfare all ? 
 
 Nay, lo ! she cometh — 
 
 The Spirit of Truce, 
 
 The Evening Star! 
 
 57 
 
so 
 
 A PARALLEL 
 
 Time has passed, since 
 
 Shadows trembled to watch 
 
 Twilight sweep the earth 
 
 For the phantoms to trip and mince. 
 
 A dark breeze the forest-heart stirs; 
 Yet merry the face of the sky — 
 Twinkling in joy 
 Its innumerable eyes, the stars. 
 
 Hushed the music within; 
 Pleasure's silver laugh, dead; 
 Thought lost in reverie — 
 Reverie receding into nothing. 
 
 The taper of dreams flickers 
 Out, leaving the soul in dusk 
 By the altar of love. 
 Flower-laden as the night with stars. 
 
 [58] 
 
51 
 "Nothing endures," you said; 
 ''None can die," quoth love; 
 " In the firmament of loving 
 No stars set, no meteors fall." 
 
 Yet, nothing endures, nothing, 
 Naught but dust; 
 Naught but regret and vain desire 
 The twin monuments of life. 
 
 Reared by time, by wrecking 
 All that we seek and find. 
 Its relentless waves of years 
 Break even the impregnable wall of 
 
 memory 
 That thought builds 
 On the embankment of hope. 
 
 Pass all away, even we who loved. 
 Dreamt as none dreamt before — 
 Borne by the tide of life — 
 But, lo! from our defeated destiny 
 Rise our seeds reared by time 
 Consecrated to love and living! 
 
 591 
 
52 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT 
 
 They think thee bitter: 
 Thou art not made o' laughter 
 Nor love's smile 
 Can thy vision beguile: 
 Like a black-fiery comet 
 Suddenly, sinisterly, thou comest; 
 Making thy fateful journey, 
 Littering the floor of destiny 
 With wreckages of life, 
 Oflove, of heart — 
 Of all visitors thou art the surest; 
 Halting nowhere long, endlessly passest, 
 Dragging behind thee thy train of fire 
 That burneth all, heedless of curse or 
 prayer. 
 
 60] 
 
S3 
 
 BUDDHA 
 
 On thy Lotus-seat of Night, — 
 
 Meditation closing thy eyes, — 
 
 The Star Hosts thy awe-struck devotees: 
 
 The Moon, thy halo unchanging. 
 
 White-robed time telling his beads 
 
 Of aeons on the thread of Eternity 
 
 By the ocean of space 
 
 Slumbering in peace at thy feet; 
 
 While Destiny stringing the lyre of death 
 
 Sings Nirvana's hymn. 
 
 6i] 
 
54 
 
 Ask me not to stand at thy friendship's gate — 
 I, who loved thee, now must like a cold spectre 
 
 from a far forgotten land of snow 
 Watch thee fall asleep on the couch of freezing 
 
 friendship ? 
 In these arms thou sought and joyed on many 
 
 delights 
 Excavated the ruins of passion to build them anew. 
 Or sailed on thy wings — these arms — over love's 
 
 enchanted sea. 
 
 Friendship! 
 Barrier not this, but a coward's refuge — 
 A shadow, not the rainbow-light of loving and life. 
 O come, my pilot, conduct the bark of our twin 
 
 souls 
 From cold friendship 's haven 
 Over love 's boistrous desire- foam-fringed ocean 
 Till in the sheer joy and fatigue of flying 
 We fail, fall and fade 
 Into the heart of Passion 's another fire-born day. 
 
 [62 
 
55 
 
 Golden vines they. 
 These thin hnes of light, 
 Climbing the sky-wall 
 After the sun sank into sleep. 
 
 Like rills, thread-like, 
 Seen from a jutting rock 
 Where air is dizzy 
 And fancy infinite, free. 
 
 What fiery wine 
 Tingles in these vines 
 Weaving golden arabesques 
 On the pale evening sky ? 
 
 Ah, the heavens this hour 
 Have drunk of sunset's ruby wine 
 For those golden cobwebs to weave 
 Their magic of twilight dreams. 
 
 [63 
 
56 
 AT SUNDOWN 
 
 Two shadows fell, tremulous and frail. 
 From the upland over the lake-surface pale, 
 While the shivering reeds shook at sunset. 
 As the swans sailed into a sea of jet. 
 
 The rippling waters, and the breeze, 
 
 And the shadows that fall from the trees. 
 
 Mingled and melted with the twain, 
 
 A song of white washed away by its black refrain. 
 
 Only words remained, palpitating and few. 
 Falling through the gloom and night's dew 
 Like jewelled fancies rising out of a dream 
 That live for a moment and die ere they gleam. 
 
 [64] 
 
57 
 
 Tears well out from my heart, 
 As cloudsovercast my soul, 
 x^nd blur my vision of thee. 
 
 Melancholy this dawn, 
 When thy smile and words. 
 And thy sky-shaming eyes 
 Are not beside me to rouse me from 
 sleep. 
 
 Though cry I without end, 
 
 Yet a thought of thee heals many 
 
 wounds. 
 Why? thou ask me; how can I tell? 
 
 All thou wish to take is thine; 
 Not even the dust of thy feet I seek, 
 Only leave me the star of thy memory 
 To bathe in the rain of my weeping. 
 
 65] 
 
58 
 
 At last thou comest; 
 
 Thy footsteps I hear across the ages, 
 
 Over wandering fancies. 
 
 Through shadows of dreams 
 
 Is thy coming. Queen of queens. 
 
 This shimmering summer of life 
 That thou bringest with thee 
 As a gift to my silent waiting 
 Is but what I prayed to bring 
 To the altar of thy coming. 
 
 I spread the seat of my soul. 
 For thee to rest thy tired limbs; 
 And wave the fan of my heart 
 To cool thy lotus-shaming face, 
 Lady of light, queen of grace. 
 
 Come to my bower of worship, 
 
 Where burns the incense of devotion, 
 
 Lay thy rose-robed body 
 
 In the shrine of my longing, 
 
 Where love's rainbow-songs are ringing. 
 
 [66] 
 
59 
 
 The lingering light of the sun 
 
 Takes from the chalice of the valley 
 
 Its mist-perfume to wash the 
 
 Moon-face with rose. 
 
 In the pool at my feet the goldfishes drag 
 
 their trains of brown 
 Which cleave it into parts that ceaselessly 
 
 mingle anew. 
 The moon, silver bright 
 Through thousand streams sends her light 
 Into the valley aswoon, listening to the 
 
 harmony of night. 
 
 [67] 
 
6o 
 
 I have drunk your tears with insatiate lips; 
 I have broken like a toy the heart of your life; 
 What have I given ? your last query ! 
 The cup of my heart filled I with love; 
 The chalice of soul with the substance of my 
 
 Godj 
 For thee to drink my life's first love. 
 Thou drankest as one that comes from a 
 
 desert. 
 Thou spiltest the nectar heedless, hke mad; 
 Yet I cursed not, nor shed tears; 
 But loved thee, longed to live for thy love. 
 Alas! thy tears grew salt, thy love thy self's 
 
 greedy grasp, — 
 O, it is the end; let us part! 
 The morning of indifference wings the gray 
 
 sky; 
 The bird-song of the other dawns the raven 's 
 
 shriek now, — 
 Shed no more tears, I tire of my drink; 
 Break not thy heart; thy soul ? Let it be still ! 
 Beyond the gray-cloud is the land of sunrise: 
 Let us part, dear, let us be wise. 
 
 68 
 
y 
 
 6i 
 SOUND BUTTERFLIES 
 
 (IN A FOUNTAIN) 
 
 Like interpenetrating bells of silver, 
 
 The water-drops ring and melt 
 
 Into new drops, like new notes 
 
 From an untiring lyre. 
 
 That in colored succession 
 
 Paint our heart-beats 
 
 From the gold of sunrise into sunset fire; 
 
 Yet, not like that, this brush of water-drops 
 
 Limns on the silver rim of Joy 
 
 The dark Butterflies of Desire. 
 
 69] 
 
62 
 
 Even in sadness thou art beside me. 
 In gladness, none so happy as thee; 
 
 I love thee; 
 May my love kiss the feet of thy love of me. 
 
 My dreams are thine, day or night. 
 My sleep sings in silence to the night 
 
 Of thy delight; 
 May thy heart's gifts like stars my heart's 
 heaven bedight ! 
 
 Though a sigh rises in my soul this hour; 
 
 Closes its petals in the west the golden day-flower; 
 
 In my bower 
 Let thy love pour its rainbow shower. 
 
 [70] 
 
63 
 
 By the sea of sleep walks white-robed Night; 
 The breeze but the faint rustle of her drapery 
 That calls the mist-made bark of dream 
 From the cavern of the Unknown to sail to us, 
 Laden with endless star-like fancies. 
 And She! the magician, walks on and on 
 Over the sapphire embankment of the sky 
 Like a moving magnet drawing behind her a 
 million dream-argosies. 
 
 [71I 
 
64 
 FAREWELL 
 
 (AFTER A HINDUSTANI SONG) 
 
 Farewell, fairest of loves ! 
 
 Life's most fanciful of gifts, 
 
 Joy and treasure, love and wonder, 
 
 Waking's elusive reality, 
 
 Dream's ever-yielding divinity. 
 
 Even thou must pass 
 
 Beyond time's starless bar: 
 
 Thy eyes, their lambent flames 
 
 Shall no more illumine my night; 
 
 Nor thy brow, home of many moods. 
 
 Tranquil yet tormented as a sea. 
 
 Shall ever wear the coronal of my kiss. 
 
 Ah, kisses! blisses of fire. 
 
 Passion 's long lingering melody 
 
 Played by thy lips on mine. 
 
 Even they must die — 
 
 Intangible realities of rapture. 
 
 Ever present wonders of desire — 
 
 Now like autumn leaves 
 
 Fly with the west-wind of fear. 
 
 No, not fear that takes thee from me, 
 
 Nor love's slayer, satiety; 
 
 Yet art gone; thou art going. 
 
 Oh, not to crush thy heart on mine: 
 
 Thy breasts made but for my hands. 
 
 No more to quiver in rapture therein ! 
 
 Who wills this cruel decree ? 
 
 The warmth of thy body. 
 
 The staggering storm of thy yielding, 
 
 [72] 
 
The intoxicating perfume of thy mouth: 
 These, and many other endless 
 Viols and lutes of passion, love, life. 
 Delights of a thousand heavens. 
 Who robs them of me? 
 Fate! that fool in the court of love. 
 Who hath no wit for laughter. 
 Steals it all from me 
 In the mid-hour of life; 
 And as it befits his mind. 
 Scatters it all over the turbid 
 Stream of fear and lies. 
 
 7J] 
 
65 
 SATIETY 
 
 All thy gifts must die, 
 
 All thy thoughts must fail; 
 
 Such were the decree writ by time 
 
 With shadows on the scroll of fate. 
 
 Even thy memory recedes into forgetting, 
 
 Thy lustrous words star-like set, 
 
 Ah, sweet! autumn's breath withers all. 
 
 Even the west-wind fears to tread. 
 
 All yield to the power of relentless time 
 
 That no love nor passion can stay. 
 
 Blown like dried leaves we now 
 
 On the granite pavement of fate. 
 
 No more thy lip-touch on my brow. 
 
 Nor thy hands pleading caresses. 
 
 Thy gifts fall and fade into nothing. 
 
 Thy vision grows dim in life's sunset- west. 
 
 74] 
 
66 
 
 Drowsy the noonday air, 
 Under the trees the still shadow 
 Like a fugitive fragment of night 
 Seeks shelter from the sun. 
 
 The bird has ceased singing, 
 The beggar unable to bear 
 The wealth of the sun 
 Spreads his torn garment 
 
 To find peace in 
 
 The benign shadow of sleep. 
 
 Ah, lone soul like him, 
 
 I spread this rag of my song 
 
 Under the tree of hfe 
 
 Over which blazes the sun of fate. 
 
 The calm of its shadow 
 
 Protects me, but where my peace? 
 
 75 
 
6? 
 CHATTERTON 
 
 For summers seventeen 
 
 This flower of spring 
 
 Scattered fragrance 
 
 That dwelt in its petals seventeen, 
 
 Seventeen song-hours, 
 
 A heart never weary; 
 
 A soul with honey of all flowers 
 
 A song as enchanting as stars. 
 
 A boy never grown old, 
 A lute never tiring to sing, 
 A mind ne 'er chilled 
 Though Hunger's hand lay cold 
 
 Steely-cold on his breast. 
 
 Yet the boy sang; 
 
 Loved as alone a poet can 
 
 Endlessly, without rest. 
 
 Just seventeen! 
 
 Ne'er old, though time passes; 
 
 A golden lyre-string 
 
 Has not yet ceased ringing: 
 
 Rings through the heart of time 
 O'er the summit of death 
 To the music of the Nine 
 Into the heart of Eternal Rhyme. 
 
 [76] 
 
68 
 
 A summer song it was. 
 Counting of many unseen stars 
 In an intangible sky 
 Making new milky ways — 
 Silver-shadow-paths that lead 
 From sapphire abysses 
 Into deeper abysses still. 
 The deeps of our souls 
 Lit by passion 's burning flowers 
 Tremulous, timorous flames of silver, 
 That with thousand hands 
 Our hearts sought to pluck and scatter, 
 Or make barbed garlands 
 For love's nuptial hour. 
 Nuptial hour, briefer than a moment. 
 Longer than Heaven 's Eternal summer. 
 When each flower burns to soothe. 
 And each soothing petal burns anew; 
 Till myriad streams of fire 
 Strewn with countless flaming stars 
 Bear us to the far sea of Time 
 Where no summer dies. 
 Nor endure the stinging moments of love's 
 winter. 
 
 77 
 
69 
 "WHO KNOWS" 
 
 Time's torment, 
 
 Life's woes, 
 
 And sorrow's wan gaze 
 
 Are but shades 
 
 In a picture of light 
 
 Where nothing abides. 
 
 All things fade. 
 
 In fading there is beauty. 
 
 By shedding tears 
 
 We bathe our hearts — 
 
 Those crushed flowers full of smart — 
 
 For a deity not far from our souls. 
 
 Yet, no solace in prayer. 
 
 Pain has no largess; 
 
 Dark has stars. 
 
 But no barren earth its flowers. 
 
 All are dismal and fallow; 
 
 Yet, from the mountain 's stony heart 
 
 Spring multitudinous rivers 
 
 Sparkling at dawn, and 
 
 Deepening night's gloom with 
 
 mysterious murmurs; 
 And who knows ? 
 These streams that pass 
 By the balcony of our past, 
 Through present's wilderness. 
 Into desolate future 
 May reach the land of the farthest 
 
 star. 
 
 [78] 
 
Who knows ? Ah ! who knows ? 
 May these song-rills 
 From my heart's Uttle hill 
 Empty their singing waters 
 Into a sea of song-making 
 Where nothing endures 
 But the sound and echo of singing. 
 Where sound, and echo are one, 
 A moonset vale of sunset land, 
 Where light is wedded to shade 
 Without death, full of dying, yet not 
 dead. 
 
 79 
 
 a^:.M.tiL^V.i^ .'., ,, ,„,.', ,,,,,„,,., 
 
70 
 
 THE FIRST VISION 
 
 The impenetrable dark — 
 
 Darkness of cloud and night 
 
 Coming on black silent wings 
 
 Surround me in their folds, 
 
 As it sits by my side on the shore of time. 
 
 No fear, no sorrow, no hope, 
 Not even the footfall of a star; 
 Dim, deep sable tones 
 Rise from the organ of nothing 
 With its flats and sharps of clouds and 
 night. 
 
 Ripples of moments 
 
 Waves of hours and years 
 
 Break on the shore of space 
 
 To speak vague, soundless words 
 
 To my soul, alone, shade among shades. 
 
 Not even the unheard whisper 
 
 Of the shadow of a breeze, 
 
 But silence ponderous, peaceful. 
 
 Afraid of its own self 
 
 A mute hound at my feet. 
 
 Who art thou ? 
 
 Whom do I know in this emptiness? 
 
 Who has Hved with me? 
 
 And called me from the deeps of time? 
 
 80] 
 
Recedes the bank of space; 
 Fades away even the unfilled time, 
 No light, no sound, not even a dream; 
 Yet who speaks through silence? 
 Who plays this music of night? 
 
 Like an intangible river it flows 
 With waves of shadow-sound 
 Between banks of mountainous silence- 
 O, who ! who are you ? 
 Light in a world of shadows, 
 Rainbow among sunless clouds. 
 Bark of song on this sea of silence, 
 O ferryman of the soul ! 
 O Word on Infinite's scroll. 
 
 [8i 
 
 -'""■'■"'■" 
 
71 
 SHANTI* 
 
 Sleep shadows, sleep light; 
 
 Sleep tune, sleep speech; 
 
 Sleep night, sleep day; 
 
 Sleep children in the cradle of rest. 
 
 Dream stars, dream moon; 
 
 Dream sea; dream O, sun; 
 
 Dream rainbow, dream storm; 
 
 Dream rain, O, milk from Heaven*s breast. 
 
 Rest ye feet, rest ye hands; 
 Rest bleeding hours of even ; 
 Rest O, heart torn and burnt, 
 Rest my fancies, day is done. 
 
 Sleep night, sleep with star-eyes closed; 
 Sleep sorrow in death's silent repose; 
 Sleep O, Soul, be it twilight or morn; 
 Sleep thou too, O, sleep, heedless of moon 
 and sun. 
 
 ♦Shanti is the Sanskrit for "Peace." 
 
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