diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/8197.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/8197.txt | 4489 |
1 files changed, 4489 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/8197.txt b/old/8197.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d45b0b4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8197.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4489 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of India's Love Lyrics, by +Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (AKA Laurence Hope), et al. + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: India's Love Lyrics + +Author: Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (AKA Laurence Hope), et al. + +Release Date: May, 2005 [EBook #8197] +Posting Date: July 29, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIA'S LOVE LYRICS *** + + + + +Produced by Gordon Keener + + + + + + + + +INDIA'S LOVE LYRICS + +By Laurence Hope + + + +Editorial note: Laurence Hope was the pen name of Adela Florence Cory +Nicolson. Born in 1865, she was educated in England. At age 16 she +joined her father in India, where she spent most of her adult life. In +1889 she married Col. Malcolm H. Nicolson, a man twice her age. She +committed suicide two months after his death in 1904. + + + + + + +"Less than the Dust" + + Less than the dust, beneath thy Chariot wheel, + Less than the rust, that never stained thy Sword, + Less than the trust thou hast in me, O Lord, + Even less than these! + + Less than the weed, that grows beside thy door, + Less than the speed of hours spent far from thee, + Less than the need thou hast in life of me. + Even less am I. + + Since I, O Lord, am nothing unto thee, + See here thy Sword, I make it keen and bright, + Love's last reward, Death, comes to me to-night, + Farewell, Zahir-u-din. + + + + + +"To the Unattainable" + + Oh, that my blood were water, thou athirst, + And thou and I in some far Desert land, + How would I shed it gladly, if but first + It touched thy lips, before it reached the sand. + + Once,--Ah, the Gods were good to me,--I threw + Myself upon a poison snake, that crept + Where my Beloved--a lesser love we knew + Than this which now consumes me wholly--slept. + + But thou; Alas, what can I do for thee? + By Fate, and thine own beauty, set above + The need of all or any aid from me, + Too high for service, as too far for love. + + + + + + +"In the Early, Pearly Morning": + + Song by Valgovind + + The fields are full of Poppies, and the skies are very blue, + By the Temple in the coppice, I wait, Beloved, for you. + The level land is sunny, and the errant air is gay, + With scent of rose and honey; will you come to me to-day? + + From carven walls above me, smile lovers; many a pair. + "Oh, take this rose and love me!" she has twined it in her hair. + He advances, she retreating, pursues and holds her fast, + The sculptor left them meeting, in a close embrace at last. + + Through centuries together, in the carven stone they lie, + In the glow of golden weather, and endless azure sky. + Oh, that we, who have for pleasure so short and scant a stay, + Should waste our summer leisure; will you come to me to-day? + + The Temple bells are ringing, for the marriage month has come. + I hear the women singing, and the throbbing of the drum. + And when the song is failing, or the drums a moment mute, + The weirdly wistful wailing of the melancholy flute. + + Little life has got to offer, and little man to lose, + Since to-day Fate deigns to proffer, Oh wherefore, then, refuse + To take this transient hour, in the dusky Temple gloom + While the poppies are in flower, and the mangoe trees abloom. + + And if Fate remember later, and come to claim her due, + What sorrow will be greater than the Joy I had with you? + For to-day, lit by your laughter, between the crushing years, + I will chance, in the hereafter, eternities of tears. + + + + + +Reverie of Mahomed Akram at the Tamarind Tank + + The Desert is parched in the burning sun + And the grass is scorched and white. + But the sand is passed, and the march is done, + We are camping here to-night. + I sit in the shade of the Temple walls, + While the cadenced water evenly falls, + And a peacock out of the Jungle calls + To another, on yonder tomb. + Above, half seen, in the lofty gloom, + Strange works of a long dead people loom, + Obscene and savage and half effaced-- + An elephant hunt, a musicians' feast-- + And curious matings of man and beast; + What did they mean to the men who are long since dust? + Whose fingers traced, + In this arid waste, + These rioting, twisted, figures of love and lust. + + Strange, weird things that no man may say, + Things Humanity hides away;-- + Secretly done,-- + Catch the light of the living day, + Smile in the sun. + Cruel things that man may not name, + Naked here, without fear or shame, + Laughed in the carven stone. + + Deep in the Temple's innermost Shrine is set, + Where the bats and shadows dwell, + The worn and ancient Symbol of Life, at rest + In its oval shell, + By which the men, who, of old, the land possessed, + Represented their Great Destroying Power. + I cannot forget + That, just as my life was touching its fullest flower, + Love came and destroyed it all in a single hour, + Therefore the dual Mystery suits me well. + + Sitting alone, + The tank's deep water is cool and sweet, + Soothing and fresh to the wayworn feet, + Dreaming, under the Tamarind shade, + One silently thanks the men who made + So green a place in this bitter land + Of sunburnt sand. + + The peacocks scream and the grey Doves coo, + Little green, talkative Parrots woo, + And small grey Squirrels, with fear askance, + At alien me, in their furtive glance, + Come shyly, with quivering fur, to see + The stranger under their Tamarind tree. + Daylight dies, + The Camp fires redden like angry eyes, + The Tents show white, + In the glimmering light, + Spirals of tremulous smoke arise, to the purple skies, + And the hum of the Camp sounds like the sea, + Drifting over the sand to me. + Afar, in the Desert some wild voice sings + To a jangling zither with minor strings, + And, under the stars growing keen above, + I think of the thing that I love. + + A beautiful thing, alert, serene, + With passionate, dreaming, wistful eyes, + Dark and deep as mysterious skies, + Seen from a vessel at sea. + Alas, you drifted away from me, + And Time and Space have rushed in between, + But they cannot undo the Thing-that-has-been, + Though it never again may be. + You were mine, from dusk until dawning light, + For the perfect whole of that bygone night + You belonged to me! + + They say that Love is a light thing, + A foolish thing and a slight thing, + A ripe fruit, rotten at core; + They speak in this futile fashion + To me, who am wracked with passion, + Tormented beyond compassion, + For ever and ever more. + + They say that Possession lessens a lover's delight, + As radiant mornings fade into afternoon. + I held what I loved in my arms for many a night, + Yet ever the morning lightened the sky too soon. + + Beyond our tents the sands stretch level and far, + Around this little oasis of Tamarind trees. + A curious, Eastern fragrance fills the breeze + From the ruinous Temple garden where roses are. + + I dream of the rose-like perfume that fills your hair, + Of times when my lips were free of your soft closed eyes, + While down in the tank the waters ripple and rise + And the flying foxes silently cleave the air. + + The present is subtly welded into the past, + My love of you with the purple Indian dusk, + With its clinging scent of sandal incense and musk, + And withering jasmin flowers. + My eyes grow dim and my senses fail at last, + While the lonely hours + Follow each other, silently, one by one, + Till the night is almost done. + + Then weary, and drunk with dreams, with my garments damp + And heavy with dew, I wander towards the camp. + Tired, with a brain in which fancy and fact are blent, + I stumble across the ropes till I reach my tent + And then to rest. To ensweeten my sleep with lies, + To dream I lie in the light of your long lost eyes, + My lips set free. + To love and linger over your soft loose hair-- + To dream I lay your delicate beauty bare + To solace my fevered eyes. + Ah,--if my life might end in a night like this-- + Drift into death from dreams of your granted kiss! + + + + + + +Verses + + You are my God, and I would fain adore You + With sweet and secret rites of other days. + Burn scented oil in silver lamps before You, + Pour perfume on Your feet with prayer and praise. + + Yet are we one; Your gracious condescension + Granted, and grants, the loveliness I crave. + One, in the perfect sense of Eastern mention, + "Gold and the Bracelet, Water and the Wave." + + + + + +Song of Khan Zada + + As one may sip a Stranger's Bowl + You gave yourself but not your soul. + I wonder, now that time has passed, + Where you will come to rest at last. + + You gave your beauty for an hour, + I held it gently as a flower. + You wished to leave me, told me so,-- + I kissed your feet and let you go. + + + + + +The Teak Forest + + Whether I loved you who shall say? + Whether I drifted down your way + In the endless River of Chance and Change, + And you woke the strange + Unknown longings that have no names, + But burn us all in their hidden flames, + Who shall say? + + Life is a strange and a wayward thing: + We heard the bells of the Temples ring, + The married children, in passing, sing. + The month of marriage, the month of spring, + Was full of the breath of sunburnt flowers + That bloom in a fiercer light than ours, + And, under a sky more fiercely blue, + I came to you! + + You told me tales of your vivid life + Where death was cruel and danger rife-- + Of deep dark forests, of poisoned trees, + Of pains and passions that scorch and freeze, + Of southern noontides and eastern nights, + Where love grew frantic with strange delights, + While men were slaying and maidens danced, + Till I, who listened, lay still, entranced. + Then, swift as a swallow heading south, + I kissed your mouth! + + One night when the plains were bathed in blood + From sunset light in a crimson flood, + We wandered under the young teak trees + Whose branches whined in the light night breeze; + You led me down to the water's brink, + "The Spring where the Panthers come to drink + At night; there is always water here + Be the season never so parched and sere." + Have we souls of beasts in the forms of men? + I fain would have tasted your life-blood then. + + The night fell swiftly; this sudden land + Can never lend us a twilight strand + 'Twixt the daylight shore and the ocean night, + But takes--as it gives--at once, the light. + We laid us down on the steep hillside, + While far below us wild peacocks cried, + And we sometimes heard, in the sunburnt grass, + The stealthy steps of the Jungle pass. + We listened; knew not whether they went + On love or hunger the more intent. + And under your kisses I hardly knew + Whether I loved or hated you. + + But your words were flame and your kisses fire, + And who shall resist a strong desire? + Not I, whose life is a broken boat + On a sea of passions, adrift, afloat. + And, whether I came in love or hate, + That I came to you was written by Fate + In every hue of the blood-red sky, + In every tone of the peacocks' cry. + + While every gust of the Jungle night + Was fanning the flame you had set alight. + For these things have power to stir the blood + And compel us all to their own chance mood. + And to love or not we are no more free + Than a ripple to rise and leave the sea. + + We are ever and always slaves of these, + Of the suns that scorch and the winds that freeze, + Of the faint sweet scents of the sultry air, + Of the half heard howl from the far off lair. + These chance things master us ever. Compel + To the heights of Heaven, the depths of Hell. + + Whether I love you? You do not ask, + Nor waste yourself on the thankless task. + I give your kisses at least return, + What matter whether they freeze or burn. + I feel the strength of your fervent arms, + What matter whether it heals or harms. + + You are wise; you take what the Gods have sent. + You ask no question, but rest content + So I am with you to take your kiss, + And perhaps I value you more for this. + For this is Wisdom; to love, to live, + To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give, + To ask no question, to make no prayer, + To kiss the lips and caress the hair, + Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow,-- + To have,--to hold,--and,--in time,--let go! + + And this is our Wisdom: we rest together + On the great lone hills in the storm-filled weather, + And watch the skies as they pale and burn, + The golden stars in their orbits turn, + While Love is with us, and Time and Peace, + And life has nothing to give but these. + But, whether you love me, who shall say, + Or whether you, drifting down my way + In the great sad River of Chance and Change, + With your looks so weary and words so strange, + Lit my soul from some hidden flame + To a passionate longing without a name, + Who shall say? + Not I, who am but a broken boat, + Content for a while to drift afloat + In the little noontide of love's delights + Between two Nights. + + + + + +Valgovind's Boat Song + + Waters glisten and sunbeams quiver, + The wind blows fresh and free. + Take my boat to your breast, O River! + Carry me out to Sea! + + This land is laden with fruit and grain, + With never a place left free for flowers, + A fruitful mother; but I am fain + For brides in their early bridal hours. + + Take my boat to your breast, O River! + Carry me out to Sea! + + The Sea, beloved by a thousand ships, + Is maiden ever, and fresh and free. + Ah, for the touch of her cool green lips, + Carry me out to Sea! + + Take my boat to your breast, dear River, + And carry it out to Sea! + + + + + +Kashmiri Song by Juma + + You never loved me, and yet to save me, + One unforgetable night you gave me + Such chill embraces as the snow-covered heights + Receive from clouds, in northern, Auroral nights. + Such keen communion as the frozen mere + Has with immaculate moonlight, cold and clear. + And all desire, + Like failing fire, + Died slowly, faded surely, and sank to rest + Against the delicate chillness of your breast. + + + + + +Zira: in Captivity + + Love me a little, Lord, or let me go, + I am so weary walking to and fro + Through all your lonely halls that were so sweet + Did they but echo to your coming feet. + + When by the flowered scrolls of lace-like stone + Our women's windows--I am left alone, + Across the yellow Desert, looking forth, + I see the purple hills towards the north. + + Behind those jagged Mountains' lilac crest + Once lay the captive bird's small rifled nest. + There was my brother slain, my sister bound; + His blood, her tears, drunk by the thirsty ground. + + Then, while the burning village smoked on high, + And desecrated all the peaceful sky, + They took us captive, us, born frank and free, + On fleet, strong camels through the sandy sea. + + Yet, when we rested, night-times, on the sand + By the rare waters of this dreary land, + Our captors, ere the camp was wrapped in sleep, + Talked, and I listened, and forgot to weep. + + "Is he not brave and fair?" they asked, "our King, + Slender as one tall palm-tree by a spring; + Erect, serene, with gravely brilliant eyes, + As deeply dark as are these desert skies. + + "Truly no bitter fate," they said, and smiled, + "Awaits the beauty of this captured child!" + Then something in my heart began to sing, + And secretly I longed to see the King. + + Sometimes the other maidens sat in tears, + Sometimes, consoled, they jested at their fears, + Musing what lovers Time to them would bring; + But I was silent, thinking of the King. + + Till, when the weary endless sands were passed, + When, far to south, the city rose at last, + All speech forsook me and my eyelids fell, + Since I already loved my Lord so well. + + Then the division: some were sent away + To merchants in the city; some, they say, + To summer palaces, beyond the walls. + But me they took straight to the Sultan's halls. + + Every morning I would wake and say + "Ah, sisters, shall I see our Lord to-day?" + The women robed me, perfumed me, and smiled; + "When were his feet unfleet to pleasure, child?" + + And tales they told me of his deeds in war, + Of how his name was reverenced afar; + And, crouching closer in the lamp's faint glow, + They told me of his beauty, speaking low. + + What need, what need? the women wasted art; + I love you with every fibre of my heart + Already. My God! when did I _not_ love you, + In life, in death, when shall I not love you? + + You never seek me. All day long I lie + Watching the changes of the far-off sky + Behind the lattice-work of carven stone. + And all night long, alas! I lie alone. + + But you come never. Ah, my Lord the King, + How can you find it well to do this thing? + Come once, come only: sometimes, as I lie, + I doubt if I shall see you first, or die. + + Ah, could I hear your footsteps at the door + Hallow the lintel and caress the floor, + Then I might drink your beauty, satisfied, + Die of delight, ere you could reach my side. + + Alas, you come not, Lord: life's flame burns low, + Faint for a loveliness it may not know, + Faint for your face, Oh, come--come soon to me-- + Lest, though you should not, Death should, set me free! + + + + + +Marriage Thoughts: by Morsellin Khan + + _Bridegroom_ + I give you my house and my lands, all golden with harvest; + My sword, my shield, and my jewels, the spoils of my strife, + My strength and my dreams, and aught I have gathered of glory, + And to-night--to-night, I shall give you my very life. + + _Bride_ + I may not raise my eyes, O my Lord, towards you, + And I may not speak: what matter? my voice would fail. + But through my downcast lashes, feeling your beauty, + I shiver and burn with pleasure beneath my veil. + + _Younger Sisters_ + We throw sweet perfume upon her head, + And delicate flowers round her bed. + Ah, would that it were our turn to wed! + + _Mother_ + I see my daughter, vaguely, through my tears, + (Ah, lost caresses of my early years!) + I see the bridegroom, King of men in truth! + (Ah, my first lover, and my vanished youth!) + + _Bride_ + Almost I dread this night. My senses fail me. + How shall I dare to clasp a thing so dear? + Many have feared your name, but I your beauty. + Lord of my life, be gentle to my fear! + + _Younger Sisters_ + In the softest silk is our sister dressed, + With silver rubies upon her breast, + Where a dearer treasure to-night will rest. + + _Dancing Girls_ + See! his hair is like silk, and his teeth are whiter + Than whitest of jasmin flowers. Pity they marry him thus. + I would change my jewels against his caresses. + Verily, sisters, this marriage is greatly a loss to us! + + _Bride_ + Would that the music ceased and the night drew round us, + With solitude, shadow, and sound of closing doors, + So that our lips might meet and our beings mingle, + While mine drank deep of the essence, beloved, of yours. + + _Passing mendicant_ + Out of the joy of your marriage feast, + Oh, brothers, be good to me. + The way is long and the Shrine is far, + Where my weary feet would be. + + And feasting is always somewhat sad + To those outside the door-- + Still; Love is only a dream, and Life + Itself is hardly more! + + + + + +To the Unattainable: + + Lament of Mahomed Akram + + I would have taken Golden Stars from the sky for your necklace, + I would have shaken rose-leaves for your rest from all the rose-trees. + + But you had no need; the short sweet grass sufficed for your slumber, + And you took no heed of such trifles as gold or a necklace. + + There is an hour, at twilight, too heavy with memory. + There is a flower that I fear, for your hair had its fragrance. + + I would have squandered Youth for you, and its hope and its promise, + Before you wandered, careless, away from my useless passion. + + But what is the use of my speech, since I know of no words to recall you? + I am praying that Time may teach, you, your Cruelty, me, Forgetfulness. + + + + + +Mahomed Akram's Appeal to the Stars + + Oh, Silver Stars that shine on what I love, + Touch the soft hair and sparkle in the eyes,-- + Send, from your calm serenity above, + Sleep to whom, sleepless, here, despairing lies. + + Broken, forlorn, upon the Desert sand + That sucks these tears, and utterly abased, + Looking across the lonely, level land, + With thoughts more desolate than any waste. + + Planets that shine on what I so adore, + Now thrown, the hour is late, in careless rest, + Protect that sleep, which I may watch no more, + I, the cast out, dismissed and dispossessed. + + Far in the hillside camp, in slumber lies + What my worn eyes worship but never see. + Happier Stars! your myriad silver eyes + Feast on the quiet face denied to me. + + Loved with a love beyond all words or sense, + Lost with a grief beyond the saltest tear, + So lovely, so removed, remote, and hence + So doubly and so desperately dear! + + Stars! from your skies so purple and so calm, + That through the centuries your secrets keep, + Send to this worn-out brain some Occult Balm, + Send me, for many nights so sleepless, sleep. + + And ere the sunshine of the Desert jars + My sense with sorrow and another day, + Through your soft Magic, oh, my Silver Stars! + Turn sleep to Death in some mysterious way. + + + + + +Reminiscence of Mahomed Akram + + I shall never forget you, never. Never escape + Your memory woven about the beautiful things of life. + + The sudden Thought of your Face is like a Wound + When it comes unsought + On some scent of Jasmin, Lilies, or pale Tuberose. + Any one of the sweet white fragrant flowers, + Flowers I used to love and lay in your hair. + + Sunset is terribly sad. I saw you stand + Tall against the red and the gold like a slender palm; + The light wind stirred your hair as you waved your hand, + Waved farewell, as ever, serene and calm, + To me, the passion-wearied and tost and torn, + Riding down the road in the gathering grey. + Since that day + The sunset red is empty, the gold forlorn. + + Often across the Banqueting board at nights + Men linger about your name in careless praise + The name that cuts deep into my soul like a knife; + And the gay guest-faces and flowers and leaves and lights + Fade away from the failing sense in a haze, + And the music sways + Far away in unmeasured distance.... + I cannot forget-- + I cannot escape. What are the Stars to me? + Stars that meant so much, too much, in my youth; + Stars that sparkled about your eyes, + Made a radiance round your hair, + What are they now? + + Lingering lights of a Finished Feast, + Little lingering sparks rather, + Of a Light that is long gone out. + + + + + +Story by Lalla-ji, the Priest + + He loved the Plant with a keen delight, + A passionate fervour, strange to see, + Tended it ardently, day and night, + Yet never a flower lit up the tree. + + The leaves were succulent, thick, and green, + And, sessile, out of the snakelike stem + Rose spine-like fingers, alert and keen, + To catch at aught that molested them. + + But though they nurtured it day and night, + With love and labour, the child and he + Were never granted the longed-for sight + Of a flower crowning the twisted tree. + + Until one evening a wayworn Priest + Stopped for the night in the Temple shade + And shared the fare of their simple feast + Under the vines and the jasmin laid. + + He, later, wandering round the flowers + Paused awhile by the blossomless tree. + The man said, "May it be fault of ours, + That never its buds my eyes may see? + + "Aslip it came from the further East + Many a sunlit summer ago." + "It grows in our Jungles," said the Priest, + "Men see it rarely; but this I know, + + "The Jungle people worship it; say + They bury a child around its roots-- + Bury it living:--the only way + To crimson glory of flowers and fruits." + + He spoke in whispers; his furtive glance + Probing the depths of the garden shade. + The man came closer, with eyes askance, + The child beside them shivered, afraid. + + A cold wind drifted about the three, + Jarring the spines with a hungry sound, + The spines that grew on the snakelike tree + And guarded its roots beneath the ground. + + ..... + + After the fall of the summer rain + The plant was glorious, redly gay, + Blood-red with blossom. Never again + Men saw the child in the Temple play. + + + + + +Request + + Give me your self one hour; I do not crave + For any love, or even thought, of me. + Come, as a Sultan may caress a slave + And then forget for ever, utterly. + + Come! as west winds, that passing, cool and wet, + O'er desert places, leave them fields in flower + And all my life, for I shall not forget, + Will keep the fragrance of that perfect hour! + + + + + +Story of Udaipore: + + Told by Lalla-ji, the Priest + + "And when the Summer Heat is great, + And every hour intense, + The Moghra, with its subtle flowers, + Intoxicates the sense." + + The Coco palms stood tall and slim, against the golden-glow, + And all their grey and graceful plumes were waving to and fro. + + She lay forgetful in the boat, and watched the dying Sun + Sink slowly lakewards, while the stars replaced him, one by one. + + She saw the marble Temple walls long white reflections make, + The echoes of their silvery bells were blown across the lake. + + The evening air was very sweet; from off the island bowers + Came scents of Moghra trees in bloom, and Oleander flowers. + + "The Moghra flowers that smell so sweet + When love's young fancies play; + The acrid Moghra flowers, still sweet + Though love be burnt away." + + The boat went drifting, uncontrolled, the rower rowed no more, + But deftly turned the slender prow towards the further shore. + + The dying sunset touched with gold the Jasmin in his hair; + His eyes were darkly luminous: she looked and found him fair. + + And so persuasively he spoke, she could not say him nay, + And when his young hands took her own, she smiled and let them stay. + + And all the youth awake in him, all love of Love in her, + All scents of white and subtle flowers that filled the twilight air + + Combined together with the night in kind conspiracy + To do Love service, while the boat went drifting onwards, free. + + "The Moghra flowers, the Moghra flowers, + While Youth's quick pulses play + They are so sweet, they still are sweet, + Though passion burns away." + + Low in the boat the lovers lay, and from his sable curls + The Jasmin flowers slipped away to rest among the girl's. + + Oh, silver lake and silver night and tender silver sky! + Where as the hours passed, the moon rose white and cold on high. + + "The Moghra flowers, the Moghra flowers, + So dear to Youth at play; + The small and subtle Moghra flowers + That only last a day." + + Suddenly, frightened, she awoke, and waking vaguely saw + The boat had stranded in the sedge that fringed the further shore. + + The breeze grown chilly, swayed the palms; she heard, still half awake, + A prowling jackal's hungry cry blown faintly o'er the lake. + + She shivered, but she turned to kiss his soft, remembered face, + Lit by the pallid light he lay, in Youth's abandoned grace. + + But as her lips met his she paused, in terror and dismay, + The white moon showed her by her side asleep a Leper lay. + + "Ah, Moghra flowers, white Moghra flowers, + All love is blind, they say; + The Moghra flowers, so sweet, so sweet, + Though love be burnt away!" + + + + + +Valgovind's Song in the Spring + + The Temple bells are ringing, + The young green corn is springing, + And the marriage month is drawing very near. + + I lie hidden in the grass, + And I count the moments pass, + For the month of marriages is drawing near. + + Soon, ah, soon, the women spread + The appointed bridal bed + With hibiscus buds and crimson marriage flowers, + + Where, when all the songs are done, + And the dear dark night begun, + I shall hold her in my happy arms for hours. + + She is young and very sweet, + From the silver on her feet + To the silver and the flowers in her hair, + And her beauty makes me swoon, + As the Moghra trees at noon + Intoxicate the hot and quivering air. + + Ah, I would the hours were fleet + As her silver circled feet, + I am weary of the daytime and the night; + I am weary unto death, + Oh my rose with jasmin breath, + With this longing for your beauty and your light. + + + + + +Youth + + I am not sure if I knew the truth + What his case or crime might be, + I only know that he pleaded Youth, + A beautiful, golden plea! + + Youth, with its sunlit, passionate eyes, + Its roseate velvet skin-- + A plea to cancel a thousand lies, + Or a thousand nights of sin. + + The men who judged him were old and grey + Their eyes and their senses dim, + He brought the light of a warm Spring day + To the Court-house bare and grim. + + Could he plead guilty in a lovelier way? + His judges acquitted him. + + + + + +When Love is Over + + Song of Khan Zada + + Only in August my heart was aflame, + Catching the scent of your Wind-stirred hair, + Now, though you spread it to soften my sleep + Through the night, I should hardly care. + + Only last August I drank that water + Because it had chanced to cool your hands; + When love is over, how little of love + Even the lover understands! + + + + + +"Golden Eyes" + + Oh Amber Eyes, oh Golden Eyes! + Oh Eyes so softly gay! + Wherein swift fancies fall and rise, + Grow dark and fade away. + Eyes like a little limpid pool + That holds a sunset sky, + While on its surface, calm and cool, + Blue water lilies lie. + + Oh Tender Eyes, oh Wistful Eyes, + You smiled on me one day, + And all my life, in glad surprise, + Leapt up and pleaded "Stay!" + Alas, oh cruel, starlike eyes, + So grave and yet so gay, + You went to lighten other skies, + Smiled once and passed away. + + Oh, you whom I name "Golden Eyes," + Perhaps I used to know + Your beauty under other skies + In lives lived long ago. + Perhaps I rowed with galley slaves, + Whose labour never ceased, + To bring across Phoenician waves + Your treasure from the East. + + Maybe you were an Emperor then + And I a favourite slave; + Some youth, whom from the lions' den + You vainly tried to save! + Maybe I reigned, a mighty King, + The early nations knew, + And you were some slight captive thing, + Some maiden whom I slew. + + Perhaps, adrift on desert shores + Beside some shipwrecked prow, + I gladly gave my life for yours. + Would I might give it now! + Or on some sacrificial stone + Strange Gods we satisfied, + Perhaps you stooped and left a throne + To kiss me ere I died. + + Perhaps, still further back than this, + In times ere men were men, + You granted me a moment's bliss + In some dark desert den, + When, with your amber eyes alight + With iridescent flame, + And fierce desire for love's delight, + Towards my lair you came + + Ah laughing, ever-brilliant eyes, + These things men may not know, + But something in your radiance lies, + That, centuries ago, + Lit up my life in one wild blaze + Of infinite desire + To revel in your golden rays, + Or in your light expire. + + If this, oh Strange Ringed Eyes, be true, + That through all changing lives + This longing love I have for you + Eternally survives, + May I not sometimes dare to dream + In some far time to be + Your softly golden eyes may gleam + Responsively on me? + + Ah gentle, subtly changing eyes, + You smiled on me one day, + And all my life in glad surprise + Leaped up, imploring "Stay!" + Alas, alas, oh Golden Eyes, + So cruel and so gay, + You went to shine in other skies, + Smiled once and passed away. + + + + + +Kotri, by the River + + At Kotri, by the river, when the evening's sun is low, + The waving palm trees quiver, the golden waters glow, + The shining ripples shiver, descending to the sea; + At Kotri, by the river, she used to wait for me. + + So young, she was, and slender, so pale with wistful eyes + As luminous and tender as Kotri's twilight skies. + Her face broke into flowers, red flowers at the mouth, + Her voice,--she sang for hours like bulbuls in the south. + + We sat beside the water through burning summer days, + And many things I taught her of Life and all its ways + Of Love, man's loveliest duty, of Passion's reckless pain, + Of Youth, whose transient beauty comes once, but not again. + + She lay and laughed and listened beside the water's edge. + The glancing river glistened and glinted through the sedge. + Green parrots flew above her and, as the daylight died, + Her young arms drew her lover more closely to her side. + + Oh days so warm and golden! oh nights so cool and still! + When Love would not be holden, and Pleasure had his will. + Days, when in after leisure, content to rest we lay, + Nights, when her lips' soft pressure drained all my life away. + + And while we sat together, beneath the Babul trees, + The fragrant, sultry weather cooled by the river breeze, + If passion faltered ever, and left the senses free, + We heard the tireless river decending to the sea. + + I know not where she wandered, or went in after days, + Or if her youth she squandered in Love's more doubtful ways. + Perhaps, beside the river, she died, still young and fair; + Perchance the grasses quiver above her slumber there. + + At Kotri, by the river, maybe I too shall sleep + The sleep that lasts for ever, too deep for dreams; too deep. + Maybe among the shingle and sand of floods to be + Her dust and mine may mingle and float away to sea. + + Ah Kotri, by the river, when evening's sun is low, + Your faint reflections quiver, your golden ripples glow. + You knew, oh Kotri river, that love which could not last. + For me your palms still shiver with passions of the past. + + + + + +Farewell + + Farewell, Aziz, it was not mine to fold you + Against my heart for any length of days. + I had no loveliness, alas, to hold you, + No siren voice, no charm that lovers praise. + + Yet, in the midst of grief and desolation, + Solace I my despairing soul with this: + Once, for my life's eternal consolation, + You lent my lips your loveliness to kiss. + + Ah, that one night! I think Love's very essence + Distilled itself from out my joy and pain, + Like tropical trees, whose fervid inflorescence + Glows, gleams, and dies, never to bloom again. + + Often I marvel how I met the morning + With living eyes after that night with you, + Ah, how I cursed the wan, white light for dawning, + And mourned the paling stars, as each withdrew! + + Yet I, even I, who am less than dust before you, + Less than the lowest lintel of your door, + Was given one breathless midnight, to adore you. + Fate, having granted this, can give no more! + + + + + +Afridi Love + + Since, Oh, Beloved, you are not even faithful + To me, who loved you so, for one short night, + For one brief space of darkness, though my absence + Did but endure until the dawning light; + + Since all your beauty--which was _mine_--you squandered + On _that_ which now lies dead across your door; + See here this knife, made keen and bright to kill you. + You shall not see the sun rise any more. + + Lie still! Lie still! In all the empty village + Who is there left to hear or heed your cry? + All are gone to labour in the valley, + Who will return before your time to die? + + No use to struggle; when I found you sleeping, + I took your hands and bound them to your side, + And both these slender feet, too apt at straying, + Down to the cot on which you lie are tied. + + Lie still, Beloved; that dead thing lying yonder, + I hated and I killed, but love is sweet, + And you are more than sweet to me, who love you, + Who decked my eyes with dust from off your feet. + + Give me your lips; Ah, lovely and disloyal + Give me yourself again; before you go + Down through the darkness of the Great, Blind Portal, + All of life's best and basest you must know. + + Erstwhile Beloved, you were so young and fragile + I held you gently, as one holds a flower: + But now, God knows, what use to still be tender + To one whose life is done within an hour? + + I hurt? What then? Death will not hurt you, dearest, + As you hurt me, for just a single night, + You call me cruel, who laid my life in ruins + To gain one little moment of delight. + + Look up, look out, across the open doorway + The sunlight streams. The distant hills are blue. + Look at the pale, pink peach trees in our garden, + Sweet fruit will come of them;--but not for you. + + The fair, far snow, upon those jagged mountains + That gnaw against the hard blue Afghan sky + Will soon descend, set free by summer sunshine. + You will not see those torrents sweeping by. + + The world is not for you. From this day forward, + You must lie still alone; who would not lie + Alone for one night only, though returning + I was, when earliest dawn should break the sky. + + There lies my lute, and many strings are broken, + Some one was playing it, and some one tore + The silken tassels round my Hookah woven; + Some one who plays, and smokes, and loves, no more! + + Some one who took last night his fill of pleasure, + As I took mine at dawn! The knife went home + Straight through his heart! God only knows my rapture + Bathing my chill hands in the warm red foam. + + And so I pain you? This is only loving, + Wait till I kill you! Ah, this soft, curled hair! + Surely the fault was mine, to love and leave you + Even a single night, you are so fair. + + Cold steel is very cooling to the fervour + Of over passionate ones, Beloved, like you. + Nay, turn your lips to mine. Not quite unlovely + They are as yet, as yet, though quite untrue. + + What will your brother say, to-night returning + With laden camels homewards to the hills, + Finding you dead, and me asleep beside you, + Will he awake me first before he kills? + + For I shall sleep. Here on the cot beside you + When you, my Heart's Delight, are cold in death. + When your young heart and restless lips are silent, + Grown chilly, even beneath my burning breath. + + When I have slowly drawn my knife across you, + Taking my pleasure as I see you swoon, + I shall sleep sound, worn out by love's last fervour, + And then, God grant your kinsmen kill me soon! + + + + + +Yasmini + + At night, when Passion's ebbing tide + Left bare the Sands of Truth, + Yasmini, resting by my side, + Spoke softly of her youth. + + "And one" she said "was tall and slim, + Two crimson rose leaves made his mouth, + And I was fain to follow him + Down to his village in the South. + + "He was to build a hut hard by + The stream where palms were growing, + We were to live, and love, and lie, + And watch the water flowing. + + "Ah, dear, delusive, distant shore, + By dreams of futile fancy gilt! + The riverside we never saw, + The palm leaf hut was never built! + + "One had a Tope of Mangoe trees, + Where early morning, noon and late, + The Persian wheels, with patient ease, + Brought up their liquid, silver freight. + + "And he was fain to rise and reach + That garden sloping to the sea, + Whose groves along the wave-swept beach + Should shelter him and love and me. + + "Doubtless, upon that western shore + With ripe fruit falling to the ground, + There dwells the Peace he hungered for, + The lovely Peace we never found. + + "Then there came one with eager eyes + And keen sword, ready for the fray. + He missed the storms of Northern skies, + The reckless raid and skirmish gay! + + "He rose from dreams of war's alarms, + To make his daggers keen and bright, + Desiring, in my very arms, + The fiercer rapture of the fight! + + "He left me soon; too soon, and sought + The stronger, earlier love again. + News reached me from the Cabul Court, + Afterwards nothing; doubtless slain. + + "Doubtless his brilliant, haggard eyes, + Long since took leave of life and light, + And those lithe limbs I used to prize + Feasted the jackal and the kite. + + "But the most loved! his sixteen years + Shone in his cheeks' transparent red. + My kisses were his first: my tears + Fell on his face when he was dead. + + "He died, he died, I speak the truth, + Though light love leave his memory dim, + He was the Lover of my Youth + And all my youth went down with him. + + "For passion ebbs and passion flows, + But under every new caress + The riven heart more keenly knows + Its own inviolate faithfulness. + + "Our Gods are kind and still deem fit + As in old days, with those to lie, + Whose silent hearths are yet unlit + By the soft light of infancy. + + "Therefore, one strange, mysterious night + Alone within the Temple shade, + Recipient of a God's delight + I lay enraptured, unafraid. + + "Also to me the boon was given, + But mourning quickly followed mirth, + My son, whose father stooped from Heaven, + Died in the moment of his birth. + + "When from the war beyond the seas + The reckless Lancers home returned, + Their spoils were laid across my knees + About my lips their kisses burned. + + "Back from the Comradeship of Death, + Free from the Friendship of the Sword, + With brilliant eyes and famished breath + They came to me for their reward. + + "Why do I tell you all these things, + Baring my life to you, unsought? + When Passion folds his wearied wings + Sleep should be follower, never Thought. + + "Ay, let us sleep. The window pane + Grows pale against the purple sky. + The dawn is with us once again, + The dawn; which always means good-bye." + + Within her little trellised room, beside the palm-fringed sea, + She wakeful in the scented gloom, spoke of her youth to me. + + + + + +Ojira, to Her Lover + + I am waiting in the desert, looking out towards the sunset, + And counting every moment till we meet. + I am waiting by the marshes and I tremble and I listen + Till the soft sands thrill beneath your coming feet. + + Till I see you, tall and slender, standing clear against the skyline + A graceful shade across the lingering red, + While your hair the breezes ruffle, turns to silver in the twilight, + And makes a fair faint aureole round your head. + + Far away towards the sunset I can see a narrow river, + That unwinds itself in red tranquillity; + I can hear its rippled meeting, and the gurgle of its greeting, + As it mingles with the loved and long sought sea. + + In the purple sky above me showing dark against the starlight, + Long wavering flights of homeward birds fly low, + They cry each one to the other, and their weird and wistful calling, + Makes most melancholy music as they go. + + Oh, my dearest hasten, hasten! It is lonely here. Already + Have I heard the jackals' first assembling cry, + And among the purple shadows of the mangroves and the marshes + Fitful echoes of their footfalls passing by. + + Ah, come soon! my arms are empty, and so weary for your beauty, + I am thirsty for the music of your voice. + Come to make the marshes joyous with the sweetness of your presence, + Let your nearing feet bid all the sands rejoice! + + My hands, my lips are feverish with the longing and the waiting + And no softness of the twilight soothes their heat, + Till I see your radiant eyes, shining stars beneath the starlight, + Till I kiss the slender coolness of your feet. + + Ah, loveliest, most reluctant, when you lay yourself beside me + All the planets reel around me--fade away, + And the sands grow dim, uncertain,--I stretch out my hands towards you + While I try to speak but know not what I say! + + I am faint with love and longing, and my burning eyes are gazing + Where the furtive Jackals wage their famished strife, + Oh, your shadow on the mangroves! and your step upon the sandhills,-- + This is the loveliest evening of my Life! + + + + + +Thoughts: Mahomed Akram + + If some day this body of mine were burned + (It found no favour alas! with you) + And the ashes scattered abroad, unurned, + Would Love die also, would Thought die too? + But who can answer, or who can trust, + No dreams would harry the windblown dust? + + Were I laid away in the furrows deep + Secure from jackal and passing plough, + Would your eyes not follow me still through sleep + Torment me then as they torture now? + Would you ever have loved me, Golden Eyes, + Had I done aught better or otherwise? + + Was I overspeechful, or did you yearn + When I sat silent, for songs or speech? + Ah, Beloved, I had been so apt to learn, + So apt, had you only cared to teach. + But time for silence and song is done, + You wanted nothing, my Golden Sun! + + What should you want of a waning star? + That drifts in its lonely orbit far + Away from your soft, effulgent light + In outer planes of Eternal night? + + + + + +Prayer + + You are all that is lovely and light, + Aziza whom I adore, + And, waking, after the night, + I am weary with dreams of you. + Every nerve in my heart is tense and sore + As I rise to another morning apart from you. + + I dream of your luminous eyes, + Aziza whom I adore! + Of the ruffled silk of your hair, + I dream, and the dreams are lies. + But I love them, knowing no more + Will ever be mine of you + Aziza, my life's despair. + + I would burn for a thousand days, + Aziza whom I adore, + Be tortured, slain, in unheard of ways + If you pitied the pain I bore. + You pity! Your bright eyes, fastened on other things, + Are keener to sting my soul, than scorpion stings! + + You are all that is lovely to me, + All that is light, + One white rose in a Desert of weariness. + I only live in the night, + The night, with its fair false dreams of you, + You and your loveliness. + + Give me your love for a day, + A night, an hour: + If the wages of sin are Death + I am willing to pay. + What is my life but a breath + Of passion burning away? + Away for an unplucked flower. + O Aziza whom I adore, + Aziza my one delight, + Only one night, I will die before day, + And trouble your life no more. + + + + + +The Aloe + + My life was like an Aloe flower, beneath an orient sky, + Your sunshine touched it for an hour; it blossomed but to die. + + Torn up, cast out, on rubbish heaps where red flames work their will + Each atom of the Aloe keeps the flower-time fragrance still. + + + + + +Memory + + How I loved you in your sleep, + With the starlight on your hair! + + The touch of your lips was sweet, + Aziza whom I adore, + I lay at your slender feet, + And against their soft palms pressed, + I fitted my face to rest. + As winds blow over the sea + From Citron gardens ashore, + Came, through your scented hair, + The breeze of the night to me. + + My lips grew arid and dry, + My nerves were tense, + Though your beauty soothe the eye + It maddens the sense. + Every curve of that beauty is known to me, + Every tint of that delicate roseleaf skin, + And these are printed on every atom of me, + Burnt in on every fibre until I die. + And for this, my sin, + I doubt if ever, though dust I be, + The dust will lose the desire, + The torment and hidden fire, + Of my passionate love for you. + Aziza whom I adore, + My dust will be full of your beauty, as is the blue + And infinite ocean full of the azure sky. + + In the light that waxed and waned + Playing about your slumber in silver bars, + As the palm trees swung their feathery fronds athwart the stars, + How quiet and young you were, + Pale as the Champa flowers, violet veined, + That, sweet and fading, lay in your loosened hair. + + How sweet you were in your sleep, + With the starlight on your hair! + Your throat thrown backwards, bare, + And touched with circling moonbeams, silver white + On the couch's sombre shade. + O Aziza my one delight, + When Youth's passionate pulses fade, + And his golden heart beats slow, + When across the infinite sky + I see the roseate glow + Of my last, last sunset flare, + I shall send my thoughts to this night + And remember you as I die, + The one thing, among all the things of this earth, found fair. + + How sweet you were in your sleep, + With the starlight, silver and sable, across your hair! + + + + + +The First Lover + + As o'er the vessel's side she leant, + She saw the swimmer in the sea + With eager eyes on her intent, + "Come down, come down and swim with me." + + So weary was she of her lot, + Tired of the ship's monotony, + She straightway all the world forgot + Save the young swimmer in the sea + + So when the dusky, dying light + Left all the water dark and dim, + She softly, in the friendly night, + Slipped down the vessel's side to him. + + Intent and brilliant, brightly dark, + She saw his burning, eager eyes, + And many a phosphorescent spark + About his shoulders fall and rise. + + As through the hushed and Eastern night + They swam together, hand in hand, + Or lay and laughed in sheer delight + Full length upon the level sand. + + "Ah, soft, delusive, purple night + Whose darkness knew no vexing moon! + Ah, cruel, needless, dawning light + That trembled in the sky too soon!" + + + + + +Khan Zada's Song on the Hillside + + The fires that burn on all the hills + Light up the landscape grey, + The arid desert land distills + The fervours of the day. + + The clear white moon sails through the skies + And silvers all the night, + I see the brilliance of your eyes + And need no other light. + + The death sighs of a thousand flowers + The fervent day has slain + Are wafted through the twilight hours, + And perfume all the plain. + + My senses strain, and try to clasp + Their sweetness in the air, + In vain, in vain; they only grasp + The fragrance of your hair. + + The plain is endless space expressed; + Vast is the sky above, + I only feel, against your breast, + Infinities of love. + + + + + +Deserted Gipsy's Song: Hillside Camp + + She is glad to receive your turquoise ring, + Dear and dark-eyed Lover of mine! + I, to have given you everything: + Beauty maddens the soul like Wine. + + "She is proud to have held aloof her charms, + Slender, dark-eyed Lover of mine! + But I, of the night you lay in my arms: + Beauty maddens the sense like Wine! + + "She triumphs to think that your heart is won, + Stately, dark-eyed Lover of mine! + I had not a thought of myself, not one: + Beauty maddens the brain like Wine! + + "She will speak you softly, while skies are blue, + Dear, deluded Lover of mine! + I would lose both body and soul for you: + Beauty maddens the brain like Wine! + + "While the ways are fair she will love you well, + Dear, disdainful Lover of mine! + But I would have followed you down to Hell: + Beauty maddens the soul like Wine! + + "Though you lay at her feet the days to be, + Now no longer Lover of mine! + You can give her naught that you gave not me: + Beauty maddened my soul like Wine! + + "When the years have shown what is false or true: + Beauty maddens the sight like Wine! + You will understand how I cared for you, + First and only Lover of mine!" + + + + + +The Plains + + How one loves them + These wide horizons; whether Desert or Sea,-- + Vague and vast and infinite; faintly clear-- + Surely, hid in the far away, unknown "There," + Lie the things so longed for and found not, found not, Here. + + Only where some passionate, level land + Stretches itself in reaches of golden sand, + Only where the sea line is joined to the sky-line, clear, + Beyond the curve of ripple or white foamed crest,-- + Shall the weary eyes + Distressed by the broken skies,-- + Broken by Minaret, mountain, or towering tree,-- + Shall the weary eyes be assuaged,--be assuaged,--and rest. + + + + + +"Lost Delight" + + After the Hazara War + + I lie alone beneath the Almond blossoms, + Where we two lay together in the spring, + And now, as then, the mountain snows are melting, + This year, as last, the water-courses sing. + + That was another spring, and other flowers, + Hung, pink and fragile, on the leafless tree, + The land rejoiced in other running water, + And I rejoiced, because you were with me. + + You, with your soft eyes, darkly lashed and shaded, + Your red lips like a living, laughing rose, + Your restless, amber limbs so lithe and slender + Now lost to me. Gone whither no man knows. + + You lay beside me singing in the sunshine; + The rough, white fur, unloosened at the neck, + Showed the smooth skin, fair as the Almond blossoms, + On which the sun could find no flaw or fleck. + + I lie alone, beneath the Almond flowers, + I hated them to touch you as they fell. + And now, who killed you? worse, Ah, worse, who loves you? + (My soul is burning as men burn in Hell.) + + How I have sought you in the crowded cities! + I have been mad, they say, for many days. + I know not how I came here, to the valley, + What fate has led me, through what doubtful ways. + + Somewhere I see my sword has done good service, + Some one I killed, who, smiling, used your name, + But in what country? Nay, I have forgotten, + All thought is shrivelled in my heart's hot flame. + + Where are you now, Delight, and where your beauty, + Your subtle curls, and laughing, changeful face? + Bound, bruised and naked (dear God, grant me patience), + And sold in Cabul in the market-place. + + I asked of you of all men. Who could tell me? + Among so many captured, sold, or slain, + What fate was yours? (Ah, dear God, grant me patience, + My heart is burnt, is burnt, with fire and pain.) + + Oh, lost Delight! my heart is almost breaking, + My sword is broken and my feet are sore, + The people look at me and say in passing, + "He will not leave the village any more." + + For as the evening falls, the fever rises, + With frantic thoughts careering through the brain, + Wild thoughts of you. (Ah, dear God, grant me patience, + My soul is hurt beyond all men call pain.) + + I lie alone, beneath the Almond blossoms, + And see the white snow melting on the hills + Till Khorassan is gay with water-courses, + Glad with the tinkling sound of running rills, + + And well I know that when the fragile petals + Fall softly, ere the first green leaves appear, + (Ah, for these last few days, God, grant me patience,) + Since Delight is not, I shall not be, here! + + + + + +Unforgotten + + Do you ever think of me? you who died + Ere our Youth's first fervour chilled, + With your soft eyes and your pulses stilled + Lying alone, aside, + Do you ever think of me, left in the light, + From the endless calm of your dawnless night? + + I am faithful always: I do not say + That the lips which thrilled to your lips of old + To lesser kisses are always cold; + Had you wished for this in its narrow sense + Our love perhaps had been less intense; + But as we held faithfulness, you and I, + I am faithful always, as you who lie, + Asleep for ever, beneath the grass, + While the days and nights and the seasons pass,-- + Pass away. + + I keep your memory near my heart, + My brilliant, beautiful guiding Star, + Till long live over, I too depart + To the infinite night where perhaps you are. + + Oh, are you anywhere? Loved so well! + I would rather know you alive in Hell + Than think your beauty is nothing now, + With its deep dark eyes and tranquil brow + Where the hair fell softly. Can this be true + That nothing, nowhere, exists of you? + Nothing, nowhere, oh, loved so well + I have _never_ forgotten. + Do you still keep + Thoughts of me through your dreamless sleep? + + Oh, gone from me! lost in Eternal Night, + Lost Star of light, + Risen splendidly, set so soon, + Through the weariness of life's afternoon + I dream of your memory yet. + My loved and lost, whom I could not save, + My youth went down with you to the grave, + Though other planets and stars may rise, + I dream of your soft and sorrowful eyes + And I cannot forget. + + + + + +Song of Faiz Ulla + + Just at the time when Jasmins bloom, most sweetly in the summer weather, + Lost in the scented Jungle gloom, one sultry night we spent together + We, Love and Night, together blent, a Trinity of tranced content. + + Yet, while your lips were wholly mine, to kiss, to drink from, to caress, + We heard some far-off faint distress; harsh drop of poison in sweet wine + Lessening the fulness of delight,-- + Some quivering note of human pain, + Which rose and fell and rose again, in plaintive sobs throughout the night, + + Spoiling the perfumed, moonless hours + We spent among the Jasmin flowers. + + + + + +Story of Lilavanti + + They lay the slender body down + With all its wealth of wetted hair, + Only a daughter of the town, + But very young and slight and fair. + + The eyes, whose light one cannot see, + Are sombre doubtless, like the tresses, + The mouth's soft curvings seem to be + A roseate series of caresses. + + And where the skin has all but dried + (The air is sultry in the room) + Upon her breast and either side, + It shows a soft and amber bloom. + + By women here, who knew her life, + A leper husband, I am told, + Took all this loveliness to wife + When it was barely ten years old. + + And when the child in shocked dismay + Fled from the hated husband's care + He caught and tied her, so they say, + Down to his bedside by her hair. + + To some low quarter of the town, + Escaped a second time, she flew; + Her beauty brought her great renown + And many lovers here she knew, + + When, as the mystic Eastern night + With purple shadow filled the air, + Behind her window framed in light, + She sat with jasmin in her hair. + + At last she loved a youth, who chose + To keep this wild flower for his own, + He in his garden set his rose + Where it might bloom for him alone. + + Cholera came; her lover died, + Want drove her to the streets again, + And women found her there, who tried + To turn her beauty into gain. + + But she who in those garden ways + Had learnt of Love, would now no more + Be bartered in the market place + For silver, as in days before. + + That former life she strove to change; + She sold the silver off her arms, + While all the world grew cold and strange + To broken health and fading charms. + + Till, finding lovers, but no friend, + Nor any place to rest or hide, + She grew despairing at the end, + Slipped softly down a well and died. + + And yet, how short, when all is said, + This little life of love and tears! + Her age, they say, beside her bed, + To-day is only fifteen years. + + + + + +The Garden by the Bridge + + The Desert sands are heated, parched and dreary, + The tigers rend alive their quivering prey + In the near Jungle; here the kites rise, weary, + Too gorged with living food to fly away. + + All night the hungry jackals howl together + Over the carrion in the river bed, + Or seize some small soft thing of fur or feather + Whose dying shrieks on the night air are shed. + + I hear from yonder Temple in the distance + Whose roof with obscene carven Gods is piled, + Reiterated with a sad insistence + Sobs of, perhaps, some immolated child. + + Strange rites here, where the archway's shade is deeper, + Are consummated in the river bed; + Parias steal the rotten railway sleeper + To burn the bodies of their cholera dead. + + But yet, their lust, their hunger, cannot shame them + Goaded by fierce desire, that flays and stings; + Poor beasts, and poorer men. Nay, who shall blame them? + Blame the Inherent Cruelty of Things. + + The world is horrible and I am lonely, + Let me rest here where yellow roses bloom + And find forgetfulness, remembering only + Your face beside me in the scented gloom. + + Nay, do not shrink! I am not here for passion, + I crave no love, only a little rest, + Although I would my face lay, lover's fashion, + Against the tender coolness of your breast. + + I am so weary of the Curse of Living + The endless, aimless torture, tumult, fears. + Surely, if life were any God's free giving, + He, seeing His gift, long since went blind with tears. + + Seeing us; our fruitless strife, our futile praying, + Our luckless Present and our bloodstained Past. + Poor players, who make a trick or two in playing, + But know that death _must_ win the game at last. + + As round the Fowler, red with feathered slaughter, + The little joyous lark, unconscious, sings,-- + As the pink Lotus floats on azure water, + Innocent of the mud from whence it springs. + + You walk through life, unheeding all the sorrow, + The fear and pain set close around your way, + Meeting with hopeful eyes each gay to-morrow, + Living with joy each hour of glad to-day. + + I love to have you thus (nay, dear, lie quiet, + How should these reverent fingers wrong your hair?) + So calmly careless of the rush and riot + That rages round is seething everywhere. + + You do not understand. You think your beauty + Does but inflame my senses to desire, + Till all you hold as loyalty and duty, + Is shrunk and shrivelled in the ardent fire. + + You wrong me, wearied out with thought and grieving + As though the whole world's sorrow eat my heart, + I come to gaze upon your face believing + Its beauty is as ointment to the smart. + + Lie still and let me in my desolation + Caress the soft loose hair a moment's span. + Since Loveliness is Life's one Consolation, + And love the only Lethe left to man. + + Ah, give me here beneath the trees in flower, + Beside the river where the fireflies pass, + One little dusky, all consoling hour + Lost in the shadow of the long grown grass + + Give me, oh you whose arms are soft and slender, + Whose eyes are nothing but one long caress, + Against your heart, so innocent and tender, + A little Love and some Forgetfulness. + + + + + +Fate Knows no Tears + + Just as the dawn of Love was breaking + Across the weary world of grey, + Just as my life once more was waking + As roses waken late in May, + Fate, blindly cruel and havoc-making, + Stepped in and carried you away. + + Memories have I none in keeping + Of times I held you near my heart, + Of dreams when we were near to weeping + That dawn should bid us rise and part; + Never, alas, I saw you sleeping + With soft closed eyes and lips apart, + + Breathing my name still through your dreaming.-- + Ah! had you stayed, such things had been! + But Fate, unheeding human scheming, + Serenely reckless came between-- + Fate with her cold eyes hard and gleaming + Unseared by all the sorrow seen. + + Ah! well-beloved, I never told you, + I did not show in speech or song, + How at the end I longed to fold you + Close in my arms; so fierce and strong + The longing grew to have and hold you, + You, and you only, all life long. + + They who know nothing call me fickle, + Keen to pursue and loth to keep. + Ah, could they see these tears that trickle + From eyes erstwhile too proud to weep. + Could see me, prone, beneath the sickle, + While pain and sorrow stand and reap! + + Unopened scarce, yet overblown, lie + The hopes that rose-like round me grew, + The lights are low, and more than lonely + This life I lead apart from you. + Come back, come back! I want you only, + And you who loved me never knew. + + You loved me, pleaded for compassion + On all the pain I would not share; + And I in weary, halting fashion + Was loth to listen, long to care; + But now, dear God! I faint with passion + For your far eyes and distant hair. + + Yes, I am faint with love, and broken + With sleepless nights and empty days; + I want your soft words fiercely spoken, + Your tender looks and wayward ways-- + Want that strange smile that gave me token + Of many things that no man says. + + Cold was I, weary, slow to waken + Till, startled by your ardent eyes, + I felt the soul within me shaken + And long-forgotten senses rise; + But in that moment you were taken, + And thus we lost our Paradise! + + Farewell, we may not now recover + That golden "Then" misspent, passed by, + We shall not meet as loved and lover + Here, or hereafter, you and I. + My time for loving you is over, + Love has no future, but to die. + + And thus we part, with no believing + In any chance of future years. + We have no idle self-deceiving, + No half-consoling hopes and fears; + We know the Gods grant no retrieving + A wasted chance. Fate knows no tears. + + + + + +Verses: Faiz Ulla + + Just in the hush before dawn + A little wistful wind is born. + A little chilly errant breeze, + That thrills the grasses, stirs the trees. + And, as it wanders on its way, + While yet the night is cool and dark, + The first carol of the lark,-- + Its plaintive murmurs seem to say + "I wait the sorrows of the day." + + + + + +Two Songs by Sitara, of Kashmir + + Beloved! your hair was golden + As tender tints of sunrise, + As corn beside the River + In softly varying hues. + I loved you for your slightness, + Your melancholy sweetness, + Your changeful eyes, that promised + What your lips would still refuse. + + You came to me, and loved me, + Were mine upon the River, + The azure water saw us + And the blue transparent sky; + The Lotus flowers knew it, + Our happiness together, + While life was only River, + Only love, and you and I. + + Love wakened on the River, + To sounds of running water, + With silver Stars for witness + And reflected Stars for light; + Awakened to existence, + With ripples for first music + And sunlight on the River + For earliest sense of sight. + + Love grew upon the River + Among the scented flowers, + The open rosy flowers + Of the Lotus buds in bloom-- + Love, brilliant as the Morning, + More fervent than the Noon-day, + And tender as the Twilight + In its blue transparent gloom. + + Love died upon the River! + Cold snow upon the mountains, + The Lotus leaves turned yellow + And the water very grey. + Our kisses faint and falter, + The clinging hands unfasten, + The golden time is over + And our passion dies away. + + Away. To be forgotten, + A ripple on the River, + That flashes in the sunset, + That flashed,--and died away. + + + Second Song: The Girl from Baltistan + + Throb, throb, throb, + Far away in the blue transparent Night, + On the outer horizon of a dreaming consciousness, + She hears the sound of her lover's nearing boat + Afar, afloat + On the river's loneliness, where the Stars are the only light; + Hear the sound of the straining wood + Like a broken sob + Of a heart's distress, + Loving misunderstood. + + She lies, with her loose hair spent in soft disorder, + On a silken sheet with a purple woven border, + Every cell of her brain is latent fire, + Every fibre tense with restrained desire. + And the straining oars sound clearer, clearer, + The boat is approaching nearer, nearer; + "How to wait through the moments' space + Till I see the light of my lover's face?" + + Throb, throb, throb, + The sound dies down the stream + Till it only clings at the senses' edge + Like a half-remembered dream. + Doubtless, he in the silence lies, + His fair face turned to the tender skies, + Starlight touching his sleeping eyes. + While his boat caught in the thickset sedge + And the waters round it gurgle and sob, + Or floats set free on the river's tide, + Oars laid aside. + + She is awake and knows no rest, + Passion dies and is dispossessed + Of his brief, despotic power. + But the Brain, once kindled, would still be afire + Were the whole world pasture to its desire, + And all of love, in a single hour,-- + A single wine cup, filled to the brim, + Given to slake its thirst. + + Some there are who are thus-wise cursed + Times that follow fulfilled desire + Are of all their hours the worst. + They find no Respite and reach no Rest, + Though passion fail and desire grow dim, + No assuagement comes from the thing possessed + For possession feeds the fire. + + "Oh, for the life of the bright hued things + Whose marriage and death are one, + A floating fusion on golden wings. + Alit with passion and sun! + + "But we who re-marry a thousand times, + As the spirit or senses will, + In a thousand ways, in a thousand climes, + We remain unsatisfied still." + + As her lover left her, alone, awake she lies, + With a sleepless brain and weary, half-closed eyes. + She turns her face where the purple silk is spread, + Still sweet with delicate perfume his presence shed. + Her arms remembered his vanished beauty still, + And, reminiscent of clustered curls, her fingers thrill. + While the wonderful, Starlit Night wears slowly on + Till the light of another day, serene and wan, + Pierces the eastern skies. + + + + + +Palm Trees by the Sea + + Love, let me thank you for this! + Now we have drifted apart, + Wandered away from the sea,-- + For the fresh touch of your kiss, + For the young warmth of your heart, + For your youth given to me. + + Thanks: for the curls of your hair, + Softer than silk to the hand, + For the clear gaze of your eyes. + For yourself: delicate, fair, + Seen as you lay on the sand, + Under the violet skies. + + Thanks: for the words that you said,-- + Secretly, tenderly sweet, + All through the tropical day, + Till, when the sunset was red, + I, who lay still at your feet, + Felt my life ebbing away, + + Weary and worn with desire, + Only yourself could console. + Love let me thank you for this! + For that fierce fervour and fire + Burnt through my lips to my soul + From the white heat of your kiss! + + You were the essence of Spring, + Wayward and bright as a flame: + Though we have drifted apart, + Still how the syllables sing + Mixed in your musical name, + Deep in the well of my heart! + + Once in the lingering light, + Thrown from the west on the Sea, + Laid you your garments aside, + Slender and goldenly bright, + Glimmered your beauty, set free, + Bright as a pearl in the tide. + + Once, ere the thrill of the dawn + Silvered the edge of the sea, + I, who lay watching you rest,-- + Pale in the chill of the morn + Found you still dreaming of me + Stilled by love's fancies possessed. + + Fallen on sorrowful days, + Love, let me thank you for this, + You were so happy with me! + Wrapped in Youth's roseate haze, + Wanting no more than my kiss + By the blue edge of the sea! + + Ah, for those nights on the sand + Under the palms by the sea, + For the strange dream of those days + Spent in the passionate land, + For your youth given to me, + I am your debtor always! + + + + + +Song by Gulbaz + + "Is it safe to lie so lonely when the summer twilight closes + No companion maidens, only you asleep among the roses? + + "Thirteen, fourteen years you number, and your hair is soft and scented, + Perilous is such a slumber in the twilight all untented. + + "Lonely loveliness means danger, lying in your rose-leaf nest, + What if some young passing stranger broke into your careless rest?" + + But she would not heed the warning, lay alone serene and slight, + Till the rosy spears of morning slew the darkness of the night. + + Young love, walking softly, found her, in the scented, shady closes, + Threw his ardent arms around her, kissed her lips beneath the roses. + + And she said, with smiles and blushes, "Would that I had sooner known! + Never now the morning thrushes wake and find me all alone. + + "Since you said the rose-leaf cover sweet protection gave, but slight, + I have found this dear young lover to protect me through the night!" + + + + + +Kashmiri Song + + Pale hands I love beside the Shalimar, + Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell? + Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far, + Before you agonise them in farewell? + + Oh, pale dispensers of my Joys and Pains, + Holding the doors of Heaven and of Hell, + How the hot blood rushed wildly through the veins + Beneath your touch, until you waved farewell. + + Pale hands, pink tipped, like Lotus buds that float + On those cool waters where we used to dwell, + I would have rather felt you round my throat, + Crushing out life, than waving me farewell! + + + + + +Reverie of Ormuz the Persian + + Softly the feathery Palm-trees fade in the violet Distance, + Faintly the lingering light touches the edge of the sea, + Sadly the Music of Waves, drifts, faint as an Anthem's insistence, + Heard in the aisles of a dream, over the sandhills, to me. + + Now that the Lights are reversed, and the Singing changed into sighing, + Now that the wings of our fierce, fugitive passion are furled, + Take I unto myself, all alone in the light that is dying, + Much of the sorrow that lies hid at the Heart of the World. + + Sad am I, sad for your loss: for failing the charm of your presence, + Even the sunshine has paled, leaving the Zenith less blue. + Even the ocean lessens the light of its green opalescence, + Since, to my sorrow I loved, loved and grew weary of, you. + + Why was our passion so fleeting, why had the flush of your beauty + Only so slender a spell, only so futile a power? + Yet, even thus ever is life, save when long custom or duty + Moulds into sober fruit Love's fragile and fugitive flower. + + Fain would my soul have been faithful; never an alien pleasure + Lured me away from the light lit in your luminous eyes, + But we have altered the World as pitiful man has leisure + To criticise, balance, take counsel, assuredly lies. + + All through the centuries Man has gathered his flower, and fenced it, + --Infinite strife to attain; infinite struggle to keep,-- + Holding his treasure awhile, all Fate and all forces against it, + Knowing it his no more, if ever his vigilance sleep. + + But we have altered the World as pitiful man has grown stronger, + So that the things we love are as easily kept as won, + Therefore the ancient fight can engage and detain us no longer, + And all too swiftly, alas, passion is over and done. + + Far too speedily now we can gather the coveted treasure, + Enjoy it awhile, be satiated, begin to tire; + And what shall be done henceforth with the profitless after-leisure, + Who has the breath to kindle the ash of a faded fire? + + Ah, if it only had lasted! After my ardent endeavour + Came the delirious Joy, flooding my life like a sea, + Days of delight that are burnt on the brain for ever and ever, + Days and nights when you loved, before you grew weary of me. + + Softly the sunset decreases dim in the violet Distance, + Even as Love's own fervour has faded away from me, + Leaving the weariness, the monotonous Weight of Existence,-- + All the farewells in the world weep in the sound of the sea. + + + + + +Sunstroke + + Oh, straight, white road that runs to meet, + Across green fields, the blue green sea, + You knew the little weary feet + Of my child bride that was to be! + + Her people brought her from the shore + One golden day in sultry June, + And I stood, waiting, at the door, + Praying my eyes might see her soon. + + With eager arms, wide open thrown, + Now never to be satisfied! + Ere I could make my love my own + She closed her amber eyes and died. + + Alas! alas! they took no heed + How frail she was, my little one, + But brought her here with cruel speed + Beneath the fierce, relentless sun. + + We laid her on the marriage bed + The bridal flowers in her hand, + A maiden from the ocean led + Only, alas! to die inland. + + I walk alone; the air is sweet, + The white road wanders to the sea, + I dream of those two little feet + That grew so tired in reaching me. + + + + + +Adoration + + Who does not feel desire unending + To solace through his daily strife, + With some mysterious Mental Blending, + The hungry loneliness of life? + + Until, by sudden passion shaken, + As terriers shake a rat at play, + He finds, all blindly, he has taken + The old, Hereditary way. + + Yet, in the moment of communion, + The very heart of passion's fire, + His spirit spurns the mortal union, + "Not this, not this, the Soul's desire!" + + * * * * + + Oh You, by whom my life is riven, + And reft away from my control, + Take back the hours of passion given! + Love me one moment from your soul. + + Although I once, in ardent fashion, + Implored you long to give me this; + (In hopes to stem, or stifle, passion) + Your hair to touch, your lips to kiss + + Now that your gracious self has granted + The loveliness you hold as naught, + I find, alas! not that I wanted-- + Possession has not stifled Thought. + + Desire its aim has only shifted,-- + Built hopes upon another plan, + And I in love for you have drifted + Beyond all passion known to man. + + Beyond all dreams of soft caresses + The solacing of any kiss,-- + Beyond the fragrance of your tresses + (Once I had sold my soul for this!) + + But now I crave no mortal union + (Thanks for that sweetness in the past); + I need some subtle, strange communion, + Some sense that _I_ join _you_, at last. + + Long past the pulse and pain of passion, + Long left the limits of all love,-- + I crave some nearer, fuller fashion, + Some unknown way, beyond, above,-- + + Some infinitely inner fusion, + As Wave with Water; Flame with Fire,-- + Let me dream once the dear delusion + That I am You, Oh, Heart's Desire! + + Your kindness lent to my caresses + That beauty you so lightly prize,-- + The midnight of your sable tresses, + The twilight of your shadowed eyes. + + Ah, for that gift all thanks are given! + Yet, Oh, adored, beyond control, + Count all the passionate past forgiven + And love me once, once, from your soul. + + + + + +Three Songs of Zahir-u-Din + + The tropic day's redundant charms + Cool twilight soothes away, + The sun slips down behind the palms + And leaves the landscape grey. + I want to take you in my arms + And kiss your lips away! + + I wake with sunshine in my eyes + And find the morning blue, + A night of dreams behind me lies + And all were dreams of you! + Ah, how I wish the while I rise, + That what I dream were true. + + The weary day's laborious pace, + I hasten and beguile + By fancies, which I backwards trace + To things I loved erstwhile; + The weary sweetness of your face, + Your faint, illusive smile. + + The silken softness of your hair + Where faint bronze shadows are, + Your strangely slight and youthful air, + No passions seem to mar,-- + Oh, why, since Fate has made you fair, + Must Fortune keep you far? + + Thus spent, the day so long and bright + Less hot and brilliant seems, + Till in a final flare of light + The sun withdraws his beams. + Then, in the coolness of the night, + I meet you in my dreams! + + + Second Song + + How much I loved that way you had + Of smiling most, when very sad, + A smile which carried tender hints + Of delicate tints + And warbling birds, + Of sun and spring, + And yet, more than all other thing, + Of Weariness beyond all Words! + + None other ever smiled that way, + None that I know,-- + The essence of all Gaiety lay, + Of all mad mirth that men may know, + In that sad smile, serene and slow, + That on your lips was wont to play. + + It needed many delicate lines + And subtle curves and roseate tints + To make that weary radiant smile; + It flickered, as beneath the vines + The sunshine through green shadow glints + On the pale path that lies below, + Flickered and flashed, and died away, + But the strange thoughts it woke meanwhile + Were wont to stay. + + Thoughts of Strange Things you used to know + In dim, dead lives, lived long ago, + Some madly mirthful Merriment + Whose lingering light is yet unspent,-- + Some unimaginable Woe,-- + Your strange, sad smile forgets these not, + Though you, yourself, long since, forgot! + + + Third Song, written during Fever + + To-night the clouds hang very low, + They take the Hill-tops to their breast, + And lay their arms about the fields. + The wind that fans me lying low, + Restless with great desire for rest, + No cooling touch of freshness yields. + + I, sleepless through the stifling heat, + Watch the pale Lightning's constant glow + Between the wide set open doors. + I lie and long amidst the heat,-- + The fever that my senses know, + For that cool slenderness of yours. + + So delicate and cool you are! + A roseleaf that has lain in snow, + A snowflake tinged with sunset fire. + You do not know, so young you are, + How Fever fans the senses' glow + To uncontrollable desire! + + And fills the spaces of the night + With furious and frantic thought, + One would not dare to think by day. + Ah, if you came to me to-night + These visions would be turned to naught, + These hateful dreams be held at bay! + + But you are far, and Loneliness + My only lover through the night; + And not for any word or prayer + Would you console my loneliness + Or lend yourself, serene and slight, + And the cool clusters of your hair. + + All through the night I long for you, + As shipwrecked men in tropics yearn + For the fresh flow of streams and springs. + My fevered fancies follow you + As dying men in deserts turn + Their thoughts to clear and chilly things. + + Such dreams are mine, and such my thirst, + Unceasing and unsatisfied, + Until the night is burnt away + Among these dreams and fevered thirst, + And, through the open doorways, glide + The white feet of the coming day. + + + + + +The Regret of the Ranee in the Hall of Peacocks + + This man has taken my Husband's life + And laid my Brethren low, + No sister indeed, were I, no wife, + To pardon and let him go. + + Yet why does he look so young and slim + As he weak and wounded lies? + How hard for me to be harsh to him + With his soft, appealing eyes. + + His hair is ruffled upon the stone + And the slender wrists are bound, + So young! and yet he has overthrown + His scores on the battle ground. + + Would I were only a slave to-day, + To whom it were right and meet + To wash the stains of the War away, + The dust from the weary feet. + + Were I but one of my serving girls + To solace his pain to rest! + Shake out the sand from the soft loose curls, + And hold him against my breast! + + Have we such beauty around our Throne? + Such lithe and delicate strength? + Would God that I were the senseless stone + To support his slender length! + + I hate those wounds that trouble my sight, + Unknown! how I wish you lay, + Alone in my silken tent to-night + While I charmed the pain away. + + I would lay you down on the Royal bed, + I would bathe your wounds with wine, + And setting your feet against my head + Dream you were lover of mine. + + My Crown is heavy upon my hair, + The Jewels weigh on my breast, + All I would leave, with delight, to share + Your pale and passionate rest! + + But hands grow restless about their swords, + Lips murmur below their breath, + "The Queen is silent too long!" "My Lords, + --Take him away to death!" + + + + + +Protest: By Zahir-u-Din + + Alas! alas! this wasted Night + With all its Jasmin-scented air, + Its thousand stars, serenely bright! + I lie alone, and long for you, + Long for your Champa-scented hair, + Your tranquil eyes of twilight hue; + + Long for the close-curved, delicate lips + --Their sinuous sweetness laid on mine-- + Here, where the slender fountain drips, + Here, where the yellow roses glow, + Pale in the tender silver shine + The stars across the garden throw. + + Alas! alas! poor passionate Youth! + Why must we spend these lonely nights? + The poets hardly speak the truth,-- + Despite their praiseful litany, + His season is not all delights + Nor every night an ecstasy! + + The very power and passion that make-- + _Might_ make--his days one golden dream, + How he must suffer for their sake! + Till, in their fierce and futile rage, + The baffled senses almost deem + They might be happier in old age. + + Age that can find red roses sweet, + And yet not crave a rose-red mouth; + Hear Bulbuls, with no wish that feet + Of sweeter singers went his way; + Inhale warm breezes from the South, + Yet never fed his fancy stray. + + From some near Village I can hear + The cadenced throbbing of a drum, + Now softly distant, now more near; + And in an almost human fashion, + It, plaintive, wistful, seems to come + Laden with sighs of fitful passion, + + To mock me, lying here alone + Among the thousand useless flowers + Upon the fountain's border-stone-- + Cold stone, that chills me as I lie + Counting the slowly passing hours + By the white spangles in the sky. + + Some feast the Tom-toms celebrate, + Where, close together, side by side, + Gay in their gauze and tinsel state + With lips serene and downcast eyes, + Sit the young bridegroom and his bride, + While round them songs and laughter rise. + + They are together; Why are we + So hopelessly, so far apart? + Oh, I implore you, come to me! + Come to me, Solace of mine eyes! + Come Consolation of my heart! + Light of my senses! What replies? + + A little, languid, mocking breeze + That rustles through the Jasmin flowers + And stirs among the Tamarind trees; + A little gurgle of the spray + That drips, unheard, though silent hours, + Then breaks in sudden bubbling play. + + Wind, have you never loved a rose? + And water, seek you not the Sea? + Why, therefore, mock at my repose? + Is it my fault I am alone + Beneath the feathery Tamarind tree + Whose shadows over me are thrown? + + Nay, I am mad indeed, with thirst + For all to me this night denied + And drunk with longing, and accurst + Beyond all chance of sleep or rest, + With love, unslaked, unsatisfied, + And dreams of beauty unpossessed. + + Hating the hour that brings you not, + Mad at the space betwixt us twain, + Sad for my empty arms, so hot + And fevered, even the chilly stone + Can scarcely cool their burning pain,-- + And oh, this sense of being alone! + + Take hence, O Night, your wasted hours, + You bring me not my Life's Delight, + My Star of Stars, my Flower of Flowers! + You leave me loveless and forlorn, + Pass on, most false and futile night, + Pass on, and perish in the Dawn! + + + + + +Famine Song + + Death and Famine on every side + And never a sign of rain, + The bones of those who have starved and died + Unburied upon the plain. + What care have I that the bones bleach white? + To-morrow they may be mine, + But I shall sleep in your arms to-night + And drink your lips like wine! + + Cholera, Riot, and Sudden Death, + And the brave red blood set free, + The glazing eye and the failing breath,-- + But what are these things to me? + Your breath is quick and your eyes are bright + And your blood is red like wine, + And I shall sleep in your arms to-night + And hold your lips with mine! + + I hear the sound of a thousand tears, + Like softly pattering rain, + I see the fever, folly, and fears + Fulfilling man's tale of pain. + But for the moment your star is bright, + I revel beneath its shine, + For I shall sleep in your arms to-night + And feel your lips on mine! + + And you need not deem me over cold, + That I do not stop to think + For all the pleasure this Life may hold + Is on the Precipice brink. + Thought could but lessen my soul's delight, + And to-day she may not pine. + For I shall lie in your arms to-night + And close your lips with mine! + + I trust what sorrow the Fates may send + I may carry quietly through, + And pray for grace when I reach the end, + To die as a man should do. + To-day, at least, must be clear and bright, + Without a sorrowful sign, + Because I sleep in your arms to-night + And feel your lips on mine! + + So on I work, in the blazing sun, + To bury what dead we may, + But glad, oh, glad, when the day is done + And the night falls round us grey. + Would those we covered away from sight + Had a rest as sweet as mine! + For I shall sleep in your arms to-night + And drink your lips like wine! + + + + + +The Window Overlooking the Harbour + + Sad is the Evening: all the level sand + Lies left and lonely, while the restless sea, + Tired of the green caresses of the land, + Withdraws into its own infinity. + + But still more sad this white and chilly Dawn + Filling the vacant spaces of the sky, + While little winds blow here and there forlorn + And all the stars, weary of shining, die. + + And more than desolate, to wake, to rise, + Leaving the couch, where softly sleeping still, + What through the past night made my heaven, lies; + And looking out across the window sill + + See, from the upper window's vantage ground, + Mankind slip into harness once again, + And wearily resume his daily round + Of love and labour, toil and strife and pain. + + How the sad thoughts slip back across the night: + The whole thing seems so aimless and so vain. + What use the raptures, passion and delight, + Burnt out; as though they could not wake again. + + The worn-out nerves and weary brain repeat + The question: Whither all these passions tend;-- + This curious thirst, so painful and so sweet, + So fierce, so very short-lived, to what end? + + Even, if seeking for ourselves, the Race, + The only immortality we know,-- + Even if from the flower of our embrace + Some spark should kindle, or some fruit should grow, + + What were the use? the gain, to us or it, + That we should cause another You or Me,-- + Another life, from our light passion lit, + To suffer like ourselves awhile and die. + + What aim, what end indeed? Our being runs + In a closed circle. All we know or see + Tends to assure us that a thousand Suns, + Teeming perchance with life, have ceased to be. + + Ah, the grey Dawn seems more than desolate, + And the past night of passion worse than waste, + Love but a useless flower, that soon or late, + Turns to a fruit with bitter aftertaste. + + Youth, even Youth, seems futile and forlorn + While the new day grows slowly white above. + Pale and reproachful comes the chilly Dawn + After the fervour of a night of love. + + + + + +Back to the Border + + The tremulous morning is breaking + Against the white waste of the sky, + And hundreds of birds are awaking + In tamarisk bushes hard by. + I, waiting alone in the station, + Can hear in the distance, grey-blue, + The sound of that iron desolation, + The train that will bear me from you. + + 'T will carry me under your casement, + You'll feel in your dreams as you lie + The quiver, from gable to basement, + The rush of my train sweeping by. + And I shall look out as I pass it,-- + Your dear, unforgettable door, + 'T was _ours_ till last night, but alas! it + Will never be mine any more. + + Through twilight blue-grey and uncertain, + Where frost leaves the window-pane free, + I'll look at the tinsel-edged curtain + That hid so much pleasure for me. + I go to my long undone duty + Alone in the chill and the gloom, + My eyes are still full of the beauty + I leave in your rose-scented room. + + Lie still in your dreams; for your tresses + Are free of my lingering kiss. + I keep you awake with caresses + No longer; be happy in this! + From passion you told me you hated + You're now and for ever set free, + I pass in my train, sorrow-weighted, + Your house that was Heaven to me. + + You won't find a trace, when you waken, + Of me or my love of the past, + Rise up and rejoice! I have taken + My longed-for departure at last. + My fervent and useless persistence + You never need suffer again, + Nor even perceive in the distance + The smoke of my vanishing train! + + + + + +Reverie: Zahir-u-Din + + Alone, I wait, till her twilight gate + The Night slips quietly through, + With shadow and gloom, and purple bloom, + Flung over the Zenith blue. + + Her stars that tremble, would fain dissemble + Light over lovers thrown,-- + Her hush and mystery know no history + Such as day may own. + Day has record of pleasure and pain, + But things that are done by Night remain + For ever and ever unknown. + + For a thousand years, 'neath a thousand skies, + Night has brought men love; + Therefore the old, old longings rise + As the light grows dim above. + + Therefore, now that the shadows close, + And the mists weird and white, + While Time is scented with musk and rose; + Magic with silver light. + + I long for love; will you grant me some? + Day is over at last. + Come! as lovers have always come, + Through the evenings of the Past. + Swiftly, as lovers have always come, + Softly, as lovers have always come + Through the long-forgotten Past. + + + + + +Sea Song + + Against the planks of the cabin side, + (So slight a thing between them and me,) + The great waves thundered and throbbed and sighed, + The great green waves of the Indian sea! + + Your face was white as the foam is white, + Your hair was curled as the waves are curled, + I would we had steamed and reached that night + The sea's last edge, the end of the world. + + The wind blew in through the open port, + So freshly joyous and salt and free, + Your hair it lifted, your lips it sought, + And then swept back to the open sea. + + The engines throbbed with their constant beat; + Your heart was nearer, and all I heard; + Your lips were salt, but I found them sweet, + While, acquiescent, you spoke no word. + + So straight you lay in your narrow berth, + Rocked by the waves; and you seemed to be + Essence of all that is sweet on earth, + Of all that is sad and strange at sea. + + And you were white as the foam is white, + Your hair was curled as the waves are curled. + Ah! had we but sailed and reached that night, + The sea's last edge, the end of the world! + + + + + +To the Hills! + + 'T is eight miles out and eight miles in, + Just at the break of morn. + 'T is ice without and flame within, + To gain a kiss at dawn! + + Far, where the Lilac Hills arise + Soft from the misty plain, + A lone enchanted hollow lies + Where I at last drew rein. + + Midwinter grips this lonely land, + This stony, treeless waste, + Where East, due East, across the sand, + We fly in fevered haste. + + Pull up! the East will soon be red, + The wild duck westward fly, + And make above my anxious head, + Triangles in the sky. + + Like wind we go; we both are still + So young; all thanks to Fate! + (It cuts like knives, this air so chill,) + Dear God! if I am late! + + Behind us, wrapped in mist and sleep + The Ruined City lies, + (Although we race, we seem to creep!) + While lighter grow the skies. + + Eight miles out only, eight miles in, + Good going all the way; + But more and more the clouds begin + To redden into day. + + And every snow-tipped peak grows pink + An iridescent gem! + My heart beats quick, with joy, to think + How I am nearing them! + + As mile on mile behind us falls, + Till, Oh, delight! I see + My Heart's Desire, who softly calls + Across the gloom to me. + + The utter joy of that First Love + No later love has given, + When, while the skies grew light above, + We entered into Heaven. + + + + + +Till I Wake + + When I am dying, lean over me tenderly, softly, + Stoop, as the yellow roses droop in the wind from the South. + So I may, when I wake, if there be an Awakening, + Keep, what lulled me to sleep, the touch of your lips on my mouth. + + + + + +His Rubies: Told by Valgovind + + Along the hot and endless road, + Calm and erect, with haggard eyes, + The prisoner bore his fetters' load + Beneath the scorching, azure skies. + + Serene and tall, with brows unbent, + Without a hope, without a friend, + He, under escort, onward went, + With death to meet him at the end. + + The Poppy fields were pink and gay + On either side, and in the heat + Their drowsy scent exhaled all day + A dream-like fragrance almost sweet. + + And when the cool of evening fell + And tender colours touched the sky, + He still felt youth within him dwell + And half forgot he had to die. + + Sometimes at night, the Camp-fires lit + And casting fitful light around, + His guard would, friend-like, let him sit + And talk awhile with them, unbound. + + Thus they, the night before the last, + Were resting, when a group of girls + Across the small encampment passed, + With laughing lips and scented curls. + + Then in the Prisoner's weary eyes + A sudden light lit up once more, + The women saw him with surprise, + And pity for the chains he bore. + + For little women reck of Crime + If young and fair the criminal be + Here in this tropic, amorous clime + Where love is still untamed and free. + + And one there was, she walked less fast, + Behind the rest, perhaps beguiled + By his lithe form, who, as she passed, + Waited a little while, and smiled. + + The guard, in kindly Eastern fashion, + Smiled to themselves, and let her stay. + So tolerant of human passion, + "To love he has but one more day." + + Yet when (the soft and scented gloom + Scarce lighted by the dying fire) + His arms caressed her youth and bloom, + With him it was not all desire. + + "For me," he whispered, as he lay, + "But little life remains to live. + One thing I crave to take away: + You have the gift; but will you give? + + "If I could know some child of mine + Would live his life, and see the sun + Across these fields of poppies shine, + What should I care that mine is done? + + "To die would not be dying quite, + Leaving a little life behind, + You, were you kind to me to-night, + Could grant me this; but--are you kind? + + "See, I have something here for you + For you and It, if It there be." + Soft in the gloom her glances grew, + With gentle tears he could not see. + + He took the chain from off his neck, + Hid in the silver chain there lay + Three rubies, without flaw or fleck. + She answered softly "I will stay." + + He drew her close; the moonless skies + Shed little light; the fire was dead. + Soft pity filled her youthful eyes, + And many tender things she said. + + Throughout the hot and silent night + All that he asked of her she gave. + And, left alone ere morning light, + He went serenely to the grave, + + Happy; for even when the rope + Confined his neck, his thoughts were free, + And centered round his Secret Hope + The little life that was to be. + + When Poppies bloomed again, she bore + His child who gaily laughed and crowed, + While round his tiny neck he wore + The rubies given on the road. + + For his small sake she wished to wait, + But vainly to forget she tried, + And grieving for the Prisoner's fate, + She broke her gentle heart and died. + + + + + +Song of Taj Mahomed + + Dear is my inlaid sword; across the Border + It brought me much reward; dear is my Mistress, + The jewelled treasure of an amorous hour. + Dear beyond measure are my dreams and Fancies. + + These I adore; for these I live and labour, + Holding them more than sword or jewelled Mistress, + For this indeed may rust, and that prove faithless, + But, till my limbs are dust, I have my Fancies. + + + + + +The Garden of Kama: + + Kama the Indian Eros + + The daylight is dying, + The Flying fox flying, + Amber and amethyst burn in the sky. + See, the sun throws a late, + Lingering, roseate + Kiss to the landscape to bid it good-bye. + + The time of our Trysting! + Oh, come, unresisting, + Lovely, expectant, on tentative feet. + Shadow shall cover us, + Roses bend over us, + Making a bride chamber, sacred and sweet. + + We know not life's reason, + The length of its season, + Know not if they know, the great Ones above. + We none of us sought it, + And few could support it, + Were it not gilt with the glamour of love. + + But much is forgiven + To Gods who have given, + If but for an hour, the Rapture of Youth. + You do not yet know it, + But Kama shall show it, + Changing your dreams to his Exquisite Truth. + + The Fireflies shall light you, + And naught shall afright you, + Nothing shall trouble the Flight of the Hours. + Come, for I wait for you, + Night is too late for you, + Come, while the twilight is closing the flowers. + + Every breeze still is, + And, scented with lilies, + Cooled by the twilight, refreshed by the dew, + The garden lies breathless, + Where Kama, the Deathless, + In the hushed starlight, is waiting for you. + + + + + +Camp Follower's Song, Gomal River + + We have left Gul Kach behind us, + Are marching on Apozai,-- + Where pleasure and rest are waiting + To welcome us by and by. + + We're falling back from the Gomal, + Across the Gir-dao plain, + The camping ground is deserted, + We'll never come back again. + + Along the rocks and the defiles, + The mules and the camels wind. + Good-bye to Rahimut-Ullah, + The man who is left behind. + + For some we lost in the skirmish, + And some were killed in the fight, + But he was captured by fever, + In the sentry pit, at night. + + A rifle shot had been swifter, + Less trouble a sabre thrust, + But his Fate decided fever, + And each man dies as he must. + + Behind us, red in the distance. + The wavering flames rise high, + The flames of our burning grass-huts, + Against the black of the sky. + + We hear the sound of the river, + An ever-lessening moan, + The hearts of us all turn backwards + To where he is left alone. + + We sing up a little louder, + We know that we feel bereft, + We're leaving the camp together, + And only one of us left. + + The only one, out of many, + And each must come to his end, + I wish I could stop this singing, + He happened to be my friend. + + We're falling back from the Gomal + We're marching on Apozai, + And pleasure and rest are waiting + To welcome us by and by. + + Perhaps the feast will taste bitter, + The lips of the girls less kind,-- + Because of Rahimut-Ullah, + The man who is left behind! + + + + + +Song of the Colours: by Taj Mahomed + + _Rose-colour_ + Rose Pink am I, the colour gleams and glows + In many a flower; her lips, those tender doors + By which, in time of love, love's essence flows + From him to her, are dyed in delicate Rose. + Mine is the earliest Ruby light that pours + Out of the East, when day's white gates unclose. + + On downy peach, and maiden's downier cheek + I, in a flush of radiant bloom, alight, + Clinging, at sunset, to the shimmering peak + I veil its snow in floods of Roseate light. + + _Azure_ + Mine is the heavenly hue of Azure skies, + Where the white clouds lie soft as seraphs' wings, + Mine the sweet, shadowed light in innocent eyes, + Whose lovely looks light only on lovely things. + + Mine the Blue Distance, delicate and clear, + Mine the Blue Glory of the morning sea, + All that the soul so longs for, finds not here, + Fond eyes deceive themselves, and find in me. + + _Scarlet_ + Hail! to the Royal Red of living Blood, + Let loose by steel in spirit-freeing flood, + Forced from faint forms, by toil or torture torn + Staining the patient gates of life new born. + + Colour of War and Rage, of Pomp and Show, + Banners that flash, red flags that flaunt and glow, + Colour of Carnage, Glory, also Shame, + Raiment of women women may not name. + + I hide in mines, where unborn Rubies dwell, + Flicker and flare in fitful fire in Hell, + The outpressed life-blood of the grape is mine, + Hail! to the Royal Purple Red of Wine. + + Strong am I, over strong, to eyes that tire, + In the hot hue of Rapine, Riot, Flame. + Death and Despair are black, War and Desire, + The two red cards in Life's unequal game. + + _Green_ + I am the Life of Forests, and Wandering Streams, + Green as the feathery reeds the Florican love, + Young as a maiden, who of her marriage dreams, + Still sweetly inexperienced in ways of Love. + + Colour of Youth and Hope, some waves are mine, + Some emerald reaches of the evening sky. + See, in the Spring, my sweet green Promise shine, + Never to be fulfilled, of by and by. + + Never to be fulfilled; leaves bud, and ever + Something is wanting, something falls behind; + The flowered Solstice comes indeed, but never + That light and lovely summer men divined. + + _Violet_ + I were the colour of Things, (if hue they had) + That are hard to name. + Of curious, twisted thoughts that men call "mad" + Or oftener "shame." + Of that delicate vice, that is hardly vice, + So reticent, rare, + Ethereal, as the scent of buds and spice, + In this Eastern air. + + On palm-fringed shores I colour the Cowrie shell, + With its edges curled; + And, deep in Datura poison buds, I dwell + In a perfumed world. + My lilac tinges the edge of the evening sky + Where the sunset clings. + My purple lends an Imperial Majesty + To the robes of kings. + + _Yellow_ + Gold am I, and for me, ever men curse and pray, + Selling their souls and each other, by night and day. + A sordid colour, and yet, I make some things fair, + Dying sunsets, fields of corn, and a maiden's hair. + + Thus they discoursed in the daytime,--Violet, Yellow, and Blue, + Emerald, Scarlet, and Rose-colour, the pink and perfect hue. + Thus they spoke in the sunshine, when their beauty was manifest, + Till the Night came, and the Silence, and gave them an equal rest. + + + + + +Lalila, to the Ferengi Lover + + Why above others was I so blessed + And honoured? to be chosen one + To hold you, sleeping, against my breast, + As now I may hold your only son. + + Twelve months ago; that wonderful night! + You gave your life to me in a kiss; + Have I done well, for that past delight, + In return, to have given you this? + + Look down at his face, your face, beloved, + His eyes are azure as yours are blue. + In every line of his form is proved + How well I loved you, and only you. + + I felt the secret hope at my heart + Turned suddenly to the living joy, + And knew that your life and mine had part + As golden grains in a brass alloy. + + And learning thus, that your child was mine, + Thrilled by the sense of its stirring life, + I held myself as a sacred shrine + Afar from pleasure, and pain, and strife, + + That all unworthy I might not be + Of that you had deigned to cause to dwell + Hidden away in the heart of me, + As white pearls hide in a dusky shell. + + Do you remember, when first you laid + Your lips on mine, that enchanted night? + My eyes were timid, my lips afraid, + You seemed so slender and strangely white. + + I always tremble; the moments flew + Swiftly to dawn that took you away, + But this is a small and lovely you + Content to rest in my arms all day. + + Oh, since you have sought me, Lord, for this, + And given your only child to me, + My life devoted to yours and his, + Whilst I am living, will always be. + + And after death, through the long To Be, + (Which, I think, must surely keep love's laws,) + I, should you chance to have need of me, + Am ever and always, only yours. + + + + + +On the City Wall + + Upon the City Ramparts, lit up by sunset gleam, + The Blue eyes that conquer, meet the Darker eyes that dream. + + The Dark eyes, so Eastern, and the Blue eyes from the West, + The last alight with action, the first so full of rest. + + Brown, that seem to hold the Past; its magic mystery, + Blue, that catch the early light, of ages yet to be. + + Meet and fall and meet again, then linger, look, and smile, + Time and distance all forgotten, for a little while. + + Happy on the city wall, in the warm spring weather, + All the force of Nature's laws, drawing them together. + + East and West so gaily blending, for a little space, + All the sunshine seems to centre, round th' Enchanted place! + + One rides down the dusty road, one watches from the wall, + Azure eyes would fain return, and Amber eyes recall; + + Would fain be on the ramparts, and resting heart to heart, + But time o' love is overpast, East and West must part. + + Blue eyes so clear and brilliant! Brown eyes so dark and deep! + Those are dim, and ride away, these cry themselves to sleep. + + _"Oh, since Love is all so short, the sob so near the smile,_ + _Blue eyes that always conquer us, is it worth your while?"_ + + + + + +"Love Lightly" + + There were Roses in the hedges, and Sunshine in the sky, + Red Lilies in the sedges, where the water rippled by, + A thousand Bulbuls singing, oh, how jubilant they were, + And a thousand flowers flinging their sweetness on the air. + + But you, who sat beside me, had a shadow in your eyes, + Their sadness seemed to chide me, when I gave you scant replies; + You asked "Did I remember?" and "When had I ceased to care?" + In vain you fanned the ember, for the love flame was not there. + + "And so, since you are tired of me, you ask me to forget, + What is the use of caring, now that you no longer care? + When Love is dead his Memory can only bring regret, + But how can I forget you with the flowers in your hair?" + + What use the scented Roses, or the azure of the sky? + They are sweet when Love reposes, but then he had to die. + What could I do in leaving you, but ask you to forget,-- + I suffered, too, in grieving you; I all but loved you yet. + + But half love is a treason, that no lover can forgive, + I had loved you for a season, I had no more to give. + You saw my passion faltered, for I could but let you see, + And it was not I that altered, but Fate that altered me. + + And so, since I am tired of love, I ask you to forget, + What is the use you caring, now that I no longer care? + When Love is dead, his Memory can only bring regret; + Forget me, oh, forget me, and my flower-scented hair! + + + + + +No Rival Like the Past + + As those who eat a Luscious Fruit, sunbaked, + Full of sweet juice, with zest, until they find + It finished, and their appetite unslaked, + And so return and eat the pared-off rind;-- + + We, who in Youth, set white and careless teeth + In the Ripe Fruits of Pleasure while they last, + Later, creep back to gnaw the cast-off sheath, + And find there is no Rival like the Past. + + + + + +Verse by Taj Mahomed + + When first I loved, I gave my very soul + Utterly unreserved to Love's control, + But Love deceived me, wrenched my youth away + And made the gold of life for ever grey. + Long I lived lonely, yet I tried in vain + With any other Joy to stifle pain; + There _is_ no other joy, I learned to know, + And so returned to Love, as long ago. + Yet I, this little while ere I go hence, + Love very lightly now, in self-defence. + + + + + +Lines by Taj Mahomed + + This passion is but an ember + Of a Sun, of a Fire, long set; + I could not live and remember, + And so I love and forget. + + You say, and the tone is fretful, + That my mourning days were few, + You call me over forgetful-- + My God, if you only knew! + + + + + +There is no Breeze to Cool the Heat of Love + + The listless Palm-trees catch the breeze above + The pile-built huts that edge the salt Lagoon, + There is no Breeze to cool the heat of love, + No wind from land or sea, at night or noon. + + Perfumed and robed I wait, my Lord, for you, + And my heart waits alert, with strained delight, + My flowers are loath to close, as though they knew + That you will come to me before the night. + + In the Verandah all the lights are lit, + And softly veiled in rose to please your eyes, + Between the pillars flying foxes flit, + Their wings transparent on the lilac skies. + + Come soon, my Lord, come soon, I almost fear + My heart may fail me in this keen suspense, + Break with delight, at last, to know you near. + Pleasure is one with Pain, if too intense. + + I envy these: the steps that you will tread, + The jasmin that will touch you by its leaves, + When, in your slender height, you stoop your head + At the low door beneath the palm-thatched eaves. + + For though you utterly belong to me, + And love has done his utmost 'twixt us twain, + Your slightest, careless touch yet seems to be + That keen delight so much akin to pain. + + The night breeze blows across the still Lagoon, + And stirs the Palm-trees till they wave above + Our pile-built huts; Oh, come, my Lord, come soon, + There is no Breeze to cool the heat of love. + + Every time you give yourself to me, + The gift seems greater, and yourself more fair, + This slight-built, palm-thatched hut has come to be + A temple, since, my Lord, you visit there. + + And as the water, gurgling softly, goes + Among the piles beneath the slender floor; + I hear it murmur, as it seaward flows, + Of the great Wonder seen upon the shore. + + The Miracle, that you should come to me, + Whom the whole world, seeing, can but desire, + It is as though some White Star stooped to be + The messmate of our little cooking fire. + + Leaving the Glory of his Purple Skies, + And the White Friendship of the Crescent Moon, + And yet;--I look into your brilliant eyes, + And find content; Oh, come, my Lord, come soon. + + Perfumed and robed I wait for you, I wait, + The flowers that please you wreathed about my hair, + And this poor face set forth in jewelled state, + So more than proud since you have found it fair. + + My lute is ready, and the fragrant drink + Your lips may honour, how it will rejoice + Losing its life in yours! the lute I think + But wastes the time when I might hear your voice. + + But you desired it, therefore I obey. + Your slightest, as your utmost, wish or will, + Whether it please you to caress or slay, + It would please me to give obedience still. + + I would delight to die beneath your kiss; + I envy that young maiden who was slain, + So her warm blood, flowing beneath the kiss, + Might ease the wounded Sultan of his pain-- + + If she loved him as I love you, my Lord. + There is no pleasure on the earth so sweet + As is the pain endured for one adored; + If I lay crushed beneath your slender feet + + I should be happy! Ah, come soon, come soon, + See how the stars grow large and white above, + The land breeze blows across the salt Lagoon, + There is no Breeze to cool the heat of love. + + + + + +Malay Song + + The Stars await, serene and white, + The unarisen moon; + Oh, come and stay with me to-night, + Beside the salt Lagoon! + + My hut is small, but as you lie, + You see the lighted shore, + And hear the rippling water sigh + Beneath the pile-raised floor. + + No gift have I of jewels or flowers, + My room is poor and bare: + But all the silver sea is ours, + And all the scented air + + Blown from the mainland, where there grows + Th' "Intriguer of the Night," + The flower that you have named Tube rose, + Sweet scented, slim, and white. + + The flower that, when the air is still + And no land breezes blow, + From its pale petals can distil + A phosphorescent glow. + + I see your ship at anchor ride; + Her "captive lightning" shine. + Before she takes to-morrow's tide, + Let this one night be mine! + + Though in the language of your land + My words are poor and few, + Oh, read my eyes, and understand, + I give my youth to you! + + + + + +The Temple Dancing Girl + + You will be mine; those lightly dancing feet, + Falling as softly on the careless street + As the wind-loosened petals of a flower, + Will bring you here, at the Appointed Hour. + + And all the Temple's little links and laws + Will not for long protect your loveliness. + I have a stronger force to aid my cause, + Nature's great Law, to love and to possess! + + Throughout those sleepless watches, when I lay + Wakeful, desiring what I might not see, + I knew (it helped those hours, from dusk to day), + In this one thing, Fate would be kind to me. + + You will consent, through all my veins like wine + This prescience flows; your lips meet mine above, + Your clear soft eyes look upward into mine + Dim in a silent ecstasy of love. + + The clustered softness of your waving hair, + That curious paleness which enchants me so, + And all your delicate strength and youthful air, + Destiny will compel you to bestow! + + Refuse, withdraw, and hesitate awhile, + Your young reluctance does but fan the flame; + My partner, Love, waits, with a tender smile, + Who play against him play a losing game. + + I, strong in nothing else, have strength in this, + The subtlest, most resistless, force we know + Is aiding me; and you must stoop and kiss: + The genius of the race will have it so! + + Yet, make it not too long, nor too intense + My thirst; lest I should break beneath the strain, + And the worn nerves, and over-wearied sense, + Enjoy not what they spent themselves to gain. + + Lest, in the hour when you consent to share + That human passion Beauty makes divine, + I, over worn, should find you over fair, + Lest I should die before I make you mine. + + You will consent, those slim, reluctant feet, + Falling as lightly on the careless street + As the white petals of a wind-worn flower, + Will bring you here, at the Appointed Hour. + + + + + +Hira-Singh's Farewell to Burmah + + On the wooden deck of the wooden Junk, silent, alone, we lie, + With silver foam about the bow, and a silver moon in the sky: + A glimmer of dimmer silver here, from the anklets round your feet, + Our lips may close on each other's lips, but never our souls may meet. + + For though in my arms you lie at rest, your name I have never heard, + To carry a thought between us two, we have not a single word. + And yet what matter we do not speak, when the ardent eyes have spoken, + The way of love is a sweeter way, when the silence is unbroken. + + As a wayward Fancy, tired at times, of the cultured Damask Rose, + Drifts away to the tangled copse, where the wild Anemone grows; + So the ordered and licit love ashore, is hardly fresh and free + As this light love in the open wind and salt of the outer sea. + + So sweet you are, with your tinted cheeks and your small caressive hands, + What if I carried you home with me, where our Golden Temple stands? + Yet, this were folly indeed; to bind, in fetters of permanence, + A passing dream whose enchantment charms because of its trancience. + + Life is ever a slave to Time; we have but an hour to rest, + Her steam is up and her lighters leave, the vessel that takes me west; + And never again we two shall meet, as we chance to meet to-night, + On the Junk, whose painted eyes gaze forth, in desolate want of sight. + + And what is love at its best, but this? Conceived by a passing glance, + Nursed and reared in a transient mood, on a drifting Sea of Chance. + For rudderless craft are all our loves, among the rocks and the shoals, + Well we may know one another's speech, but never each other's souls. + + Give here your lips and kiss me again, we have but a moment more, + Before we set the sail to the mast, before we loosen the oar. + Good-bye to you, and my thanks to you, for the rest you let me share, + While this night drifted away to the Past, to join the Nights that Were. + + + + + +Starlight + + O beautiful Stars, when you see me go + Hither and thither, in search of love, + Do you think me faithless, who gleam and glow + Serene and fixed in the blue above? + O Stars, so golden, it is not so. + + But there is a garden I dare not see, + There is a place where I fear to go, + Since the charm and glory of life to me + The brown earth covered there, long ago. + O Stars, you saw it, you know, you know. + + Hither and thither I wandering go, + With aimless haste and wearying fret; + In a search for pleasure and love? Not so, + Seeking desperately to forget. + You see so many, O Stars, you know. + + + + + +Sampan Song + + A little breeze blew over the sea, + And it came from far away, + Across the fields of millet and rice, + All warm with sunshine and sweet with spice, + It lifted his curls and kissed him thrice, + As upon the deck he lay. + + It said, "Oh, idle upon the sea, + Awake and with sleep have done, + Haul up the widest sail of the prow, + And come with me to the rice fields now, + She longs, oh, how can I tell you how, + To show you your first-born son!" + + + + + +Song of the Devoted Slave + + There is one God: Mahomed his Prophet. Had I his power + I would take the topmost peaks of the snow-clad Himalayas, + And would range them around your dwelling, during the heats of summer, + To cool the airs that fan your serene and delicate presence, + Had I the power. + + Your courtyard should ever be filled with the fleetest of camels + Laden with inlaid armour, jewels and trappings for horses, + Ripe dates from Egypt, and spices and musk from Arabia. + And the sacred waters of Zem-Zem well, transported thither, + Should bubble and flow in your chamber, to bathe the delicate + Slender and wayworn feet of my Lord, returning from travel, + Had I the power. + + + Fine woven silk, from the further East, should conceal your beauty, + Clinging around you in amorous folds; caressive, silken, + Beautiful long-lashed, sweet-voiced Persian boys should, kneeling, serve you, + And the floor beneath your sandalled feet should be smooth and golden, + Had I the power. + + And if ever your clear and stately thoughts should turn to women, + Kings' daughters, maidens, should be appointed to your caresses, + That the youth and the strength of my Lord might never be wasted + In light or sterile love; but enrich the world with his children. + Had I the power. + + Whilst I should sit in the outer court of the Water Palace + To await the time when you went forth, for Pleasure or Warfare, + Descending the stairs rose crowned, or armed and arrayed in purple,-- + To mark the place where your steps have fallen, and kiss the footprints, + Had I the power. + + + + + +The Singer + + The singer only sang the Joy of Life, + For all too well, alas! the singer knew + How hard the daily toil, how keen the strife, + How salt the falling tear; the joys how few. + + He who thinks hard soon finds it hard to live, + Learning the Secret Bitterness of Things: + So, leaving thought, the singer strove to give + A level lightness to his lyric strings. + + He only sang of Love; its joy and pain, + But each man in his early season loves; + Each finds the old, lost Paradise again, + Unfolding leaves, and roses, nesting doves. + + And though that sunlit time flies all too fleetly, + Delightful Days that dance away too soon! + Its early morning freshness lingers sweetly + Throughout life's grey and tedious afternoon. + + And he, whose dreams enshrine her tender eyes, + And she, whose senses wait his waking hand, + Impatient youth, that tired but sleepless lies, + Will read perhaps, and reading, understand. + + Oh, roseate lips he would have loved to kiss, + Oh, eager lovers that he never knew! + What should you know of him, or words of his?-- + But all the songs he sang were sung for you! + + + + + +Malaria + + He lurks among the reeds, beside the marsh, + Red oleanders twisted in His hair, + His eyes are haggard and His lips are harsh, + Upon His breast the bones show gaunt and bare. + + The green and stagnant waters lick His feet, + And from their filmy, iridescent scum + Clouds of mosquitoes, gauzy in the heat, + Rise with His gifts: Death and Delirium. + + His messengers: They bear the deadly taint + On spangled wings aloft and far away, + Making thin music, strident and yet faint, + From golden eve to silver break of day. + + The baffled sleeper hears th' incessant whine + Through his tormented dreams, and finds no rest + The thirsty insects use his blood for wine, + Probe his blue veins and pasture on his breast. + + While far away He in the marshes lies, + Staining the stagnant water with His breath, + An endless hunger burning in His eyes, + A famine unassuaged, whose food is Death. + + He hides among the ghostly mists that float + Over the water, weird and white and chill, + And peasants, passing in their laden boat, + Shiver and feel a sense of coming ill. + + A thousand burn and die; He takes no heed, + Their bones, unburied, strewn upon the plain, + Only increase the frenzy of His greed + To add more victims to th' already slain. + + He loves the haggard frame, the shattered mind, + Gloats with delight upon the glazing eye, + Yet, in one thing, His cruelty is kind, + He sends them lovely dreams before they die; + + Dreams that bestow on them their heart's desire, + Visions that find them mad, and leave them blest, + To sink, forgetful of the fever's fire, + Softly, as in a lover's arms, to rest. + + + + + +Fancy + + Far in the Further East the skilful craftsman + Fashioned this fancy for the West's delight. + This rose and azure Dragon, crouching softly + Upon the satin skin, close-grained and white. + + And you lay silent, while his slender needles + Pricked the intricate pattern on your arm, + Combining deftly Cruelty and Beauty, + That subtle union, whose child is charm. + + Charm irresistible: the lovely something + We follow in our dreams, but may not reach. + The unattainable Divine Enchantment, + Hinted in music, never heard in speech. + + This from the blue design exhales towards me, + As incense rises from the Homes of Prayer, + While the unfettered eyes, allured and rested, + Urge the forbidden lips to stoop and share; + + Share in the sweetness of the rose and azure + Traced in the Dragon's form upon the white + Curve of the arm. Ah, curb thyself, my fancy, + Where would'st thou drift in this enchanted flight? + + + + + +Feroza + + The evening sky was as green as Jade, + As Emerald turf by Lotus lake, + Behind the Kafila far she strayed, + (The Pearls are lost if the Necklace break!) + + A lingering freshness touched the air + From palm-trees, clustered around a Spring, + The great, grim Desert lay vast and bare, + But Youth is ever a careless thing. + + The Raiders threw her upon the sand, + Men of the Wilderness know no laws, + They tore the Amethysts off her hand, + And rent the folds of her veiling gauze. + + They struck the lips that they might have kissed, + Pitiless they to her pain and fear, + And wrenched the gold from her broken wrist, + No use to cry; there were none to hear. + + Her scarlet mouth and her onyx eyes, + Her braided hair in its silken sheen, + Were surely meet for a Lover's prize, + But Fate dissented, and stepped between. + + Across the Zenith the vultures fly, + Cruel of beak and heavy of wing. + Thus it was written that she should die. + Inshallah! Death is a transient thing. + + + + + +This Month the Almonds Bloom at Kandahar + + I hate this City, seated on the Plain, + The clang and clamour of the hot Bazar, + Knowing, amid the pauses of my pain, + This month the Almonds bloom in Kandahar. + + The Almond-trees, that sheltered my Delight, + Screening my happiness as evening fell. + It was well worth--that most Enchanted Night-- + This life in torment, and the next in Hell! + + People are kind to me; one More than Kind, + Her lashes lie like fans upon her cheek, + But kindness is a burden on my mind, + And it is weariness to hear her speak. + + For though that Kaffir's bullet holds me here, + My thoughts are ever free, and wander far, + To where the Lilac Hills rise, soft and clear, + Beyond the Almond Groves of Kandahar. + + He followed me to Sibi, to the Fair, + The Horse-fair, where he shot me weeks ago, + But since they fettered him I have no care + That my returning steps to health are slow. + + They will not loose him till they know my fate, + And I rest here till I am strong to slay, + Meantime, my Heart's Delight may safely wait + Among the Almond blossoms, sweet as they. + + That cursed Kaffir! Well, he won by day, + But I won, what I so desired, by night, + _My_ arms held what his lack till Judgment Day! + Also, the game is not yet over--quite! + + Wait, Amir Ali, wait till I come forth + To kill, before the Almond-trees are green, + To raze thy very Memory from the North, + _So that thou art not, and thou hast not been!_ + + Aha! Friend Amir Ali! it is Duty + To rid the World from Shiah dogs like thee, + They are but ill-placed moles on Islam's beauty, + Such as the Faithful cannot calmly see! + + Also thy bullet hurts me not a little, + Thy Shiah blood might serve to salve the ill. + Maybe some Afghan Promises are brittle; + Never a Promise to oneself, to kill! + + Now I grow stronger, I have days of leisure + To shape my coming Vengeance as I lie, + And, undisturbed by call of War or Pleasure, + Can dream of many ways a man may die. + + I shall not torture thee, thy friends might rally, + Some Fate assist thee and prove false to me; + Oh! shouldst thou now escape me, Amir Ali, + This would torment me through Eternity! + + Aye, Shuffa-Jan, I will be quiet indeed, + Give here the Hakim's powder if thou wilt, + And thou mayst sit, for I perceive thy need, + And rest thy soft-haired head upon my quilt. + + Thy gentle love will not disturb a mind + That loves and hates beneath a fiercer Star. + Also, thou know'st, my Heart is left behind, + Among the Almond-trees of Kandahar! + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of India's Love Lyrics, by +Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (AKA Laurence Hope), et al. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIA'S LOVE LYRICS *** + +***** This file should be named 8197.txt or 8197.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/1/9/8197/ + +Produced by Gordon Keener + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |