Indias Love Lyrics | Page 2

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