Your beauty puts a barb into my soul,
Strive as I will it never lets me go.
My love has passed the frontiers of control,
You are so fair and I desire you so.

Others may come and go, they are to me
But changing mirage, transient, untrue,
My faithlessness is but fidelity
Since I am never faithful, but to you.

You are not kind to me, but many are
And all their kindness does not make them dear;
It may be you deceive me when afar
Even as always you torment me near.

Yet is your beauty so divine a thing,
So irreplaceable, so haunting sweet
Against all reason, I am fain to fling
My life, my youth, myself, beneath your feet.

My little one, come and listen
To the calling of the sea,
And watch how the wet sands glisten
Where the surf has left them free.
As thou and the wind together
Shall frolic along the strand;
Thy feet as light as a feather
Will hardly dent the sand.

Unwind the veils that enfold thee,
Thou never wast shy with me;
The sea will rejoice to hold thee,
The stars will delight to see.
The beauty thou shalt discover
Oh, Morning Star of my heart,
Will dazzle even thy lover
Who knows how fair thou art!

Oh, Life, I have taken you for my Lover,
I rent your veils and I found you fair;
If a fault or failing my eyes discover,
I will not see it; it is not there!

I know, if I knew, I should hold you dearer,
Should understand, if I understood,
For I worship more, as you draw me nearer,
Your reckless Evil, your perfect Good.

In the Jungle gloom, we have watched and waited,
For stealthy Panthers, that prowl by night,
At the end of some weary march, belated,
We heard strange tales by the camp-fire light.

We have lain on the starlit sands, untented,
While low-hung planets rose white and fair,
And in moonlit gardens, silver and scented,
Oh, Life, my Lover, how sweet you were!

Forbidden and barbarous rites were shown us,
In rock-hewn Temples and jungle caves,
And the smoke-wreathed home of the dead has known us,—
The burning-ghat by the Ganges waves

Ah, the long, lone ride through the starlit hours,
The long, lone watch on the starlit sea,
And the flame and flush of the morning flowers
When Life, my Lover, was kind to me!

Betimes we were out on the Sea, together;
The vessel raced down the great green slope
Of mountainous waves, in desperate weather;
The hearts of men were adrift from hope.

As over the deck, in exultant fashion,
The violent water crashed and fell,
1 knew, through the joy of your reckless passion,
Agonised fear of the last farewell.

But I follow you always, unresisting,
To lowest depth; to uttermost brink,
From a thirst like mine there is no desisting
Though given poison for wine to drink.

You may do your utmost, you will not shake me,
Your faith may falter; my faith is true.
Oh, Life, you may shatter and rend and break me,
All Pain is Pleasure, that springs from you!

In the height and heat of your wildest passion,
You had your uttermost will of me,
And when have I asked for the least compassion?
A lover loved is a lover free!

Though, with never a word of farewell spoken
In lonely wilds of some Desert place,
You have flung me from you, adrift and broken
To wait the child of your last embrace.

And never my faith nor my fervour faltered,
Until you turned to my lips again,
When, my eager longing for you unaltered
Your first kiss cancelled my months of pain.

Ah, Life, you may torture my soul, betray me,
The right is yours, as Lover and Lord.
And when in the climax of all, you slay me,
My lips in dying will seek your sword.

Thinking you had a heart that love could break,
A lovely gentle soul that might awake,
I held you tenderly for either's sake,
And showed you nothing but love's ecstasy.

Now, though you have no heart to melt or burn,
No soul to wonder, meditate or yearn,
Your beauty is a fact; lie still and learn
Something of passionate love's intensity.

There is something so beseeching in the attitude of sleep,
A pathetic resignation, most appealing to the heart.
There must surely be some secret that the eyes in slumber keep,
Which the lips, on their awakening, could not, if they would, impart.

See yon Slave from Sus, recumbent, with his ebon arms outspread
On the marigolds he crushes to a sheet of golden flowers,
How the mystery of dreaming lends a halo to his head,
And exalts him to a level never reached in waking hours.

In the form that lies impassive, while the sea-wind comes and goes
And uplifts his rags in pity, on its cool refreshing breath,
There is something so prophetic of the Last and Great Repose:
Sleep has borrowed, in its quietude, the Dignity of Death.

Though his parted lips are wordless, though he breathes no uttered prayer
Yet his silence seems imploring "Let me deem the noonday night,
For my dreams are velvet-breasted, and they shelter me from care,
I entreat thee not to wake me to the sorrows of the light."

Ah, sleep on, in peace, my brother, to awaken when thou wilt,
From the dreams that treat thee kindly, and the rest that sets thee free.
With the wild fig for thy canopy, the marigolds thy quilt,
And, to serve thee for a lullaby, the thunder of the Sea.

At day-break, when the tide was low
He came to bathe his slender feet,
And laughing, sported to and fro,
Across my waters cool and sweet.

Obedient to his Faith's decree
His sable hair was shorn away,
One curl was left, that floating free,
I longed to deck with silver spray.

His eyes were wide and full of light,
Young eyes, where dreams and fancies glow.
There was no star in Heaven so bright,
And I reflect the stars, and know.

He gave himself to my embrace,
Ah, Youth, confiding and unwise!
My kisses clustered on his face
How should I render up my prize?

Yet he withdrew; my waves were weak.
He loitered on my banks awhile,
Shook my caresses from his cheek,
And left me with a careless smile.

I let him leave; my tides were low.
But, seeking succour of the Sea
At noon I felt the breakers flow
Across the bar, and join with me.

I waited in the heat; at length
Again he came to bathe alone,
Then, in the fulness of my strength,
I caught and held him for my own!

His strong young arms apart he flung,
His red lips cried, I had no care.
In eddies round his limbs I clung,
And rippled in and out his hair.

I bore him downwards to the Sea,
The white surf met us on the sand,
His beauty was made one with me
Who saw and loved it on the land.

I laid him down upon the bar,
Played with his hair, and kissed his eyes.
How cold these mortal lovers are!
He sleeps and makes me no replies.

My tides run low; he will not wake,
His hand drifts, like an empty shell.
I stole him for his beauty's sake,
Alas, Enfifa did not well!

His young lips show no stir of breath.
Ah,—I begin to understand,
And I remember:—this is Death!
The haunting terror of the land.

One evening we sat together
By the river of Pearls at Fez,
Stringing verses and sometimes singing.
My gaze followed the beautiful boy
Who, with a swift and delicate movement,
Flung the wine-cup over his shoulder;
The ruby drops glittered and fell
Bright in the dying sunshine.
The River of Pearls shone like a sword in the grass,
Not disdaining
The work of turning the waterwheel,
And the sun, reluctant, lingered about the tree-tops
In a golden mist of farewell.

Many the tears that have fallen since,
Many the nights that have passed,
But I remember
The River of Pearls at Fez
And Seomar whom I loved.

Syed amir is dead, and his numerous foes
Are hushed in a breathless awe of amazed relief.
The hearts of his friends are cold as the Tirah snows,
And I am blind and deaf in the Grip of my Grief.
My Soul has borrowed a portion of Pain from Hell.
Oh, Syed Amir, my Brother and Friend, Farewell!

His women weep, but a woman's tears flow lightly.
A bauble or two, or a child, can soon console.
But I, who am strange to tears, lie sleepless, nightly,
Feeling the Fangs of Grief in my desolate soul.
I maddened myself with Churus, it could not cure me—
Ransacked the Bazar, to beg at the hands of lust
An hour's respite, but how was sin to allure me,
Who know the beauty of Syed Amir is dust?

A little while I wander in Tribulation,
In a Feud or two, or a few light loves take part,
But Death will come, and this is my Consolation,
Men live not long with a stricken and wounded heart.
What further challenge from Fate can I hope or fear,
Who mourn the ruined glory of Syed Amir?

All gifts were Syed Amir's; an Arrestive Beauty
That caught men's breath when he passed, Serene and Royal,