Last Poems | Page 3

tender,
Choti Tinchaurya knows not desire.
Abhi Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Bring forth the silks and the veil that shall cover
Beauty, till yesterday, careless and wild,?Red are her lips for the kiss of a lover,
Ripe are her breasts for the lips of a child.?Centre and Shrine of Mysterious Power,
Chalice of Pleasure and Rose of Delight,?Shyly aware of the swift-coming hour,
Waiting the shade and the silence of night,
Choti Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Still must the Bridegroom his longing dissemble,
Longing to loosen the silk-woven cord,?Ah, how his fingers will flutter and tremble,
Fingers well skilled with the bridle and sword.?Thine is his valor oh, Bride, and his beauty,
Thine to possess and re-issue again,?Such is thy tender and passionate duty,
Licit thy pleasure and honoured thy pain.
Choti Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Choti Tinchaurya, lovely and tender,
Still all unbroken to sorrow and strife.?Come to the Bridegroom who, silk-clad and slender,
Brings thee the Honour and Burden of Life.?Bidding farewell to thy light-hearted playtime,
Worship thy Lover with fear and delight,?Art thou not ever, though slave of his daytime,
Choti Tinchaurya, queen of his night?
Choti Tinchaurya syani hogayi!
Unanswered
Something compels me, somewhere. Yet I see?No clear command in Life's long mystery.
Oft have I flung myself beside my horse,
To drink the water from the roadside mire,?And felt the liquid through my being course,
Stilling the anguish of my thirst's desire.
A simple want; so easily allayed;?After the burning march; water and shade.
Also I lay against the loved one's heart
Finding fulfilment in that resting-place,?Feeling my longing, quenched, was but a part
Of nature's ceaseless striving for the race.
But now, I know not what they would with me;?Matter or Force or God, if Gods there be.
I wait; I question; Nature heeds me not.
She does but urge in answer to my prayer,?"Arise and do!" Alas, she adds not what;
"Arise and go!" Alas, she says not where!
The Net of Memory
I cast the Net of Memory,?Man's torment and delight,?Over the level Sands of Youth?That lay serenely bright,?Their tranquil gold at times submerged?In the Spring Tides of Love's Delight.
The Net brought up, in silver gleams,?Forgotten truth and fancies fair:?Like opal shells, small happy facts?Within the Net entangled were?With the red coral of his lips,?The waving seaweed of his hair.
We were so young; he was so fair.
The Cactus Thicket
"The Atlas summits were veiled in purple gloom,
But a golden moon above rose clear and free.?The cactus thicket was ruddy with scarlet bloom
Where, through the silent shadow, he came to me."
"All my sixteen summers were but for this,
That He should pass, and, pausing, find me fair.?You Stars! bear golden witness! My lips were his;
I would not live till others have fastened there."
"Oh take me, Death, ere ever the charm shall fade,
Ah, close these eyes, ere ever the dream grow dim.?I welcome thee with rapture, and unafraid,
Even as yesternight I welcomed Him."

"Not now, Impatient one; it well may be?That ten moons hence I shall return for thee."
Song of the Peri
Beauty, the Gift of Gifts, I give to thee.
Pleasure and love shall spring around thy feet?As through the lake the lotuses arise
Pinkly transparent and divinely sweet.
I give thee eyes aglow like morning stars,
Delicate brows, a mist of sable tresses,?That all the journey of thy lie may be
Lit up by love and softened by caresses.
For those who once were proud and softly bred
Shall, kneeling, wait thee as thou passest by,?They who were pure shall stretch forth eager hands
Crying, "Thy pity, Lord, before we die!"
And one shall murmur, "If the sun at dawn
Shall open and caress a happy flower,?What blame to him, although the blossom fade
In the full splendour of his noontide power?"
And one, "If aloes close together grow
It well may chance a plant shall wounded be,?Pierced by the thorntips of another's leaves,
Thus am I hurt unconsciously by thee."
For some shall die and many more shall sin,
Suffering for thy sake till seven times seven,?Because of those most perfect lips of thine
Which held the power to make or mar their heaven.
And though thou givest back but cruelty,
Their love, persistent, shall not heed nor care,?All those whose ears are fed with blame of thee
Shall say, "It may be so, but he was fair."
Ay, those who lost the whole of youth for thee,
Made early and for ever, shamed and sad,?Shall sigh, re-living some sweet memory,
"Ah, once it was his will to make me glad."
Thy nights shall be as bright as summer days,
The sequence of thy sins shall seem as duty,?Since I have given thee, Oh, Gift of Gifts!--
The pale perfection of unrivalled beauty.
Though in my Firmament thou wilt not shine
Talk not, my Lord, of unrequited love,
Since love requites itself most royally.?Do we not live but by the sun above,
And takes he any heed of thee or me?
Though in my firmament thou wilt not shine,
Thy glory, as a Star, is none the less.?Oh, Rose, though all unplucked by hand of mine,
Still am I debtor to thy loveliness.
The Convert
The sun was hot on the tamarind trees,
Their shadows shrivelled and shrank.?No coolness