Sonnets | Page 7

of death.
XIX
THE DREAM

Was it a dream, when, through the spirit's gloom,
I saw the yearning
face of Beauty shine--
Soft in its human aspect, though divine,

Pleading for human love, though armed with doom?
And was it but a
dream, that faint perfume,
Blent of loose tress and soft lips joined to
mine,
Those fair white arms that did my neck entwine,
That neck's
sweet warmth, that smooth cheek's floral bloom?
Ah! was it true, or was it but a dream
Of bliss that scarce to mortal
hearts is given?
Ah! was it thou, Belovèd, or some bright
Phantom
of thee that made thy presence seem,
Rich with the warmth of Life,
the light of Heaven,
To hover o'er the realms where both unite?
XX
ETHEREAL BEAUTY
Nay, it was thou, when the fair Evening Star
Leaned on the purple
bosom of the West;
'Twas thou, when o'er the far hills' frowning crest

Fell the soft beams of Cynthia's silv'ry car:
Thyself--than stars and
moonbeams fairer far--
A vision in ethereal beauty drest!
But, when
thy head drooped flow'r-like on my breast,
Then did no word our
souls' communion mar:
Love spake to love without a sign or glance,
And heart to heart its
inmost depth revealed
In the deep thrilling silence of that trance,

Till earth, and earthly being ceased to be,
And our blent souls at that
high altar kneeled
Whence Love doth gaze upon Eternity!
XXI
A CROWN OF THORNS
There was a crown of thorns upon the head
Of Love, when he across
my threshold came.
I knew the sign and did not ask his name,
But
took him to my heart, although he said,
'The soul's dumb agonies, the

tears unshed
That sear the heart, th' injustice and the blame
Of the
harsh world,--God wills that I should claim
Through these immortal
Life when Hope is dead.'
I took him to my heart and clasped him close.
E'en though his thorns
did make my bosom bleed.
Then from the very core of pain arose
A
joy that seemed to be the utmost need
Of my worn soul! Love
whispered, '_This_ the meed
Of hearts that keep their faith amidst
Love's woes.'
XXII
TWO HEARTS IN ONE
Two hearts made one by Love that cannot die
Whatever life may
bring, shall never part;
In life they're one, and e'en in death one heart!

Are we not such, Belovèd, thou and I?
Ah, then, why mourn that
'neath another sky,
Far from these longing arms and eyes thou art?
I
clasp thee still, and lo! thy lips impart
New life to me as in the days
gone by.
I feel thy heart in mine,--our hopes and fears,
Like music's wedded
notes, together flow;
Our sighs the same, the same our smiles and
tears,--
The selfsame bliss is ours, the selfsame woe.
For Love no
weary leagues, no ling'ring years--
Two hearts in one nor time nor
distance know.
XXIII
YEARNING
The night is sweet: thy breath is in the air,
I feel it on my face; thy
tender eyes
Look love upon me from yon starry skies!
They bring
to me, those glancing moonbeams fair,
The shine and ripple of thy
silken hair.
And in the silent whispers and the sighs
That from the
throbbing heart of Nature rise,
I hear thee, feel thee,--own thy

presence there.
Ah, fond deceit!--too soon the heart, unblest,
Unsated, turns from
these illusive charms
Back to the haunting dream of heav'n once
known:
It pines for those soft eyes, that throbbing breast,
Those
sweet life-giving lips, those circling arms--
The breath, the touch, the
warmth of Beauty flown.
XXIV
LOVE'S GIFT
I'm far from thee, yet oft our spirits meet:
We share the longings of
each other's breast,
And all our joys and sorrows are confest
As
though our lips did love's fond tale repeat.
Ah! then thine eyes send
forth, mine eyes to greet,
Glances in which thy whole soul is exprest,

Then, like some song-bird flutt'ring in its nest,
I hear thy heart in
pulsing cadence beat.
I know its music and I know its thought;
My heart to it th' unuttered
words supplies;
I listen to the thrilling melody
Until my soul its
subtle tone hath caught.
And then I take it as Love's gift,--it lies

Imprisoned in my own weak poesy!
EPILOGUE
From out the golden dawn of vanished years
She glides into my
dreams, a form divine
Of light and love, to soothe the thoughts that
pine
For what has been, to stem the tide of tears
That inward flows
upon the heart and sears
Its inmost core. Her countenance benign,

Where Love and Pity's chastened graces shine,
Reflects the hallowed
light of other spheres.
Then to my anguished soul, with care outworn,
Comes, like a strain
on aerial wings upborne,
This message from her soul:--'_Bid sorrow
cease;
Love dies not;--'tis th' immortal life above.
And chastened

souls, that win eternal peace
Through earthly suff'ring, know that
Heaven is Love_!'
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sonnets
by
Nizam-ud-din-Ahmad, (Nawab Nizamat Jung Bahadur)
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