The Golden Threshold [6]
my life, Death's bitter sword Hath severed us like a broken word, Rent us in twain who are but one . . Shall the flesh survive when the soul is gone?
SONGS FOR MUSIC
SONG OF A DREAM
Once in the dream of a night I stood Lone in the light of a magical wood, Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang; And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang, And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed, And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
Lone in the light of that magical grove, I felt the stars of the spirits of Love Gather and gleam round my delicate youth, And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth; To quench my longing I bent me low By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
HUMAYUN TO ZOBEIDA
(From the Urdu)
You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan.
You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune.
Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, "I SIT BEHIND THE VEIL, I CANNOT SHOW MY FACE."
Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss?
What war is this of THEE and ME? Give o'er the wanton strife, You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life.
AUTUMN SONG
Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, The sunset hangs on a cloud; A golden storm of glittering sheaves, Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, The wild wind blows in a cloud.
Hark to a voice that is calling To my heart in the voice of the wind: My heart is weary and sad and alone, For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?
ALABASTER
Like this alabaster box whose art Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart, Carven with delicate dreams and wrought With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Therein I treasure the spice and scent Of rich and passionate memories blent Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove, Of song and sorrow and life and love.
ECSTASY
Cover mine eyes, O my Love! Mine eyes that are weary of bliss As of light that is poignant and strong O silence my lips with a kiss, My lips that are weary of song!
Shelter my soul, O my love! My soul is bent low with the pain And the burden of love, like the grace Of a flower that is smitten with rain: O shelter my soul from thy face!
TO MY FAIRY FANCIES
Nay, no longer I may hold you, In my spirit's soft caresses, Nor like lotus-leaves enfold you In the tangles of my tresses. Fairy fancies, fly away To the white cloud-wildernesses, Fly away!
Nay, no longer ye may linger With your laughter-lighted faces, Now I am a thought-worn singer In life's high and lonely places. Fairy fancies, fly away, To bright wind-inwoven spaces, Fly away!
POEMS
ODE TO H.H. THE NIZAM OF HYDERABAD
(Presented at the Ramzan Durbar)
Deign, Prince, my tribute to receive, This lyric offering to your name, Who round your jewelled scepter bind The lilies of a poet's fame; Beneath whose sway concordant dwell The peoples whom your laws embrace, In brotherhood of diverse creeds, And harmony of diverse race:
The votaries of the Prophet's faith, Of whom you are the crown and chief And they, who bear on Vedic brows Their mystic symbols of belief;
And they, who worshipping the sun, Fled o'er the old Iranian sea; And they, who bow to Him who trod The midnight waves of Galilee.
Sweet, sumptuous fables of Baghdad The splendours of your court recall, The torches of a Thousand Nights Blaze through a single festival; And Saki-singers down the streets, Pour for us, in a stream divine, From goblets of your love-ghazals The rapture of your Sufi wine.
Prince, where your radiant cities smile, Grim hills their sombre vigils keep, Your ancient forests hoard and hold The legends of their centuried sleep;
SONGS FOR MUSIC
SONG OF A DREAM
Once in the dream of a night I stood Lone in the light of a magical wood, Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang; And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang, And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed, And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
Lone in the light of that magical grove, I felt the stars of the spirits of Love Gather and gleam round my delicate youth, And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth; To quench my longing I bent me low By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
HUMAYUN TO ZOBEIDA
(From the Urdu)
You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan.
You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune.
Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, "I SIT BEHIND THE VEIL, I CANNOT SHOW MY FACE."
Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss?
What war is this of THEE and ME? Give o'er the wanton strife, You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life.
AUTUMN SONG
Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, The sunset hangs on a cloud; A golden storm of glittering sheaves, Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, The wild wind blows in a cloud.
Hark to a voice that is calling To my heart in the voice of the wind: My heart is weary and sad and alone, For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?
ALABASTER
Like this alabaster box whose art Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart, Carven with delicate dreams and wrought With many a subtle and exquisite thought.
Therein I treasure the spice and scent Of rich and passionate memories blent Like odours of cinnamon, sandal and clove, Of song and sorrow and life and love.
ECSTASY
Cover mine eyes, O my Love! Mine eyes that are weary of bliss As of light that is poignant and strong O silence my lips with a kiss, My lips that are weary of song!
Shelter my soul, O my love! My soul is bent low with the pain And the burden of love, like the grace Of a flower that is smitten with rain: O shelter my soul from thy face!
TO MY FAIRY FANCIES
Nay, no longer I may hold you, In my spirit's soft caresses, Nor like lotus-leaves enfold you In the tangles of my tresses. Fairy fancies, fly away To the white cloud-wildernesses, Fly away!
Nay, no longer ye may linger With your laughter-lighted faces, Now I am a thought-worn singer In life's high and lonely places. Fairy fancies, fly away, To bright wind-inwoven spaces, Fly away!
POEMS
ODE TO H.H. THE NIZAM OF HYDERABAD
(Presented at the Ramzan Durbar)
Deign, Prince, my tribute to receive, This lyric offering to your name, Who round your jewelled scepter bind The lilies of a poet's fame; Beneath whose sway concordant dwell The peoples whom your laws embrace, In brotherhood of diverse creeds, And harmony of diverse race:
The votaries of the Prophet's faith, Of whom you are the crown and chief And they, who bear on Vedic brows Their mystic symbols of belief;
And they, who worshipping the sun, Fled o'er the old Iranian sea; And they, who bow to Him who trod The midnight waves of Galilee.
Sweet, sumptuous fables of Baghdad The splendours of your court recall, The torches of a Thousand Nights Blaze through a single festival; And Saki-singers down the streets, Pour for us, in a stream divine, From goblets of your love-ghazals The rapture of your Sufi wine.
Prince, where your radiant cities smile, Grim hills their sombre vigils keep, Your ancient forests hoard and hold The legends of their centuried sleep;