Indias Love Lyrics | Page 4

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 dowacast 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