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THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
She sat in our midst； and judged us； and few knew what was passing
behind that face 〃like an awakening soul；〃 to use one of her own epithets。
Her eyes were like deep pools； and you seemed to fall through them into
depths below depths。
ARTHUR SYMONS。
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THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
FOLK SONGS
PALANQUIN BEARERS
Lightly； O lightly we bear her along； She sways like a flower in the
wind of our song； She skims like a bird on the foam of a stream； She floats
like a laugh from the lips of a dream。 Gaily； O gaily we glide and we sing；
We bear her along like a pearl on a string。
Softly； O softly we bear her along； She hangs like a star in the dew of
our song； She springs like a beam on the brow of the tide； She falls like a
tear from the eyes of a bride。 Lightly； O lightly we glide and we sing； We
bear her along like a pearl on a string。
WANDERING SINGERS （Written to one of their Tunes）
Where the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet； Through
echoing forest and echoing street； With lutes in our hands ever…singing we
roam； All men are our kindred； the world is our home。
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed； The laughter and beauty of
women long dead； The sword of old battles； the crown of old kings； And
happy and simple and sorrowful things。
What hope shall we gather； what dreams shall we sow？ Where the
wind calls our wandering footsteps we go。 No love bids us tarry； no joy
bids us wait： The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate。
INDIAN WEAVERS
Weavers； weaving at break of day； Why do you weave a garment so
gay？ 。 。 。 Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild； We weave the robes of a
new…born child。
Weavers； weaving at fall of night； Why do you weave a garment so
bright？ 。 。 。 Like the plumes of a peacock； purple and green； We weave the
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THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
marriage…veils of a queen。
Weavers； weaving solemn and still； What do you weave in the
moonlight chill？ 。 。 。 White as a feather and white as a cloud； We weave a
dead man's funeral shroud。
COROMANDEL FISHERS
Rise； brothers； rise； the wakening skies pray to the morning light；
The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried
all night。 Come； let us gather our nets from the shore； and set our
catamarans free； To capture the leaping wealth of the tide； for we are the
sons of the sea。
No longer delay； let us hasten away in the track of the sea…gull's call；
The sea is our mother； the cloud is our brother； the waves are our
comrades all。 What though we toss at the fall of the sun where the hand
of the sea…god drives？ He who holds the storm by the hair； will hide in
his breast our lives。
Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade； and the scent of the mango
grove； And sweet are the sands at the full o' the moon with the sound of
the voices we love。 But sweeter； O brothers； the kiss of the spray and the
dance of the wild foam's glee： Row； brothers； row to the blue of the verge；
where the low sky mates with the sea。
THE SNAKE…CHARMER
Whither dost thou hide from the magic of my flute…call？ In what
moonlight…tangled meshes of perfume； Where the clustering keovas guard
the squirrel's slumber； Where the deep woods glimmer with the jasmine's
bloom？
I'll feed thee； O beloved； on milk and wild red honey； I'll bear thee in a
basket of rushes； green and white； To a palace…bower where golden…vested
maidens Thread with mellow laughter the petals of delight。
Whither dost thou loiter； by what murmuring hollows； Where
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THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
oleanders scatter their ambrosial fire？ Come； thou subtle bride of my
mellifluous wooing； Come； thou silver…breasted moonbeam of desire！
CORN…GRINDERS
O LITTLE MOUSE； WHY DOST THOU CRY WHILE MERRY
STARS LAUGH IN THE SKY？
Alas！ alas！ my lord is dead！ Ah； who will ease my bitter pain？ He went
to seek a millet…grain In the rich farmer's granary shed； They caught him
in a baited snare； And slew my lover unaware： Alas！ alas！ my lord is dead。
O LITTLE DEER； WHY DOST THOU MOAN； HID IN THY
FOREST…BOWER ALONE？
Alas！ alas！ my lord is dead！ Ah！ who will quiet my lament？
At fall of eventide he went To drink beside the river…head； A waiting
hunter threw his dart； And struck my lover through the heart。 Alas！ alas！
my lord is dead。
O LITTLE BRIDE； WHY DOST THOU WEEP WITH ALL THE
HAPPY WORLD ASLEEP？
Alas！ alas！ my lord is dead！ Ah； who will stay these hungry tears； Or
still the want of famished years； And crown with love my marriage…bed？
My soul burns with the quenchless fire That lit my lover's funeral pyre：
Alas！ alas！ my lord is dead。
VILLAGE…SONG
Honey； child； honey； child； whither are you going？ Would you cast
your jewels all to the breezes blowing？ Would you leave the mother who
on golden grain has fed you？ Would you grieve the lover who is riding
forth to wed you？
Mother mine； to the wild forest I am going； Where upon the champa
boughs the champa buds are blowing； To the koil…haunted river…isles
where lotus lilies glisten； The voices of the fairy folk are calling me： O
listen！
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Honey； child； honey； child； the world is full of pleasure； Of bridal…
songs and cradle…songs and sandal… scented leisure。 Your bridal robes are
in the loom； silver and saffron glowing； Your bridal cakes are on the
hearth： O whither are you going？
The bridal…songs and cradle…songs have cadences of sorrow； The
laughter of the sun to…day； the wind of death to…morrow。 Far sweeter
sound the forest…notes where forest… streams are falling； O mother mine；
I cannot stay； the fairy…folk are calling。
IN PRAISE OF HENNA
A kokila called from a henna…spray： LIRA！ LIREE！ LIRA！ LIREE！
Hasten； maidens； hasten away To gather the leaves of the henna…tree。 Send
your pitchers afloat on the tide； Gather the leaves ere the dawn be old；
Grind them in mortars of amber and gold； The fresh green leaves of the
henna…tree。
A kokila called from a henna…spray： LIRA！ LIREE！ LIRA！ LIREE！
Hasten maidens； hasten away To gather the leaves of the henna…tree。 The
tilka's red for the brow of a bride； And betel…nut's red for lips that are
sweet； But； for lily…like fingers and feet； The red； the red of the henna…tree。
HARVEST HYMN
Men's Voices
Lord of the lotus； lord of the harvest； Bright and munificent lord of the
morn！ Thine is the bounty that prospered our sowing； Thine is the bounty
that nurtured our corn。 We bring thee our songs and our garlands for
tribute； The gold of our fields and the gold of our fruit； O giver of
mellowing radiance； we hail thee； We praise thee； O Surya； with cymbal
and flute。
Lord of the rainbow； lord of the harvest； Great and beneficent lord of
the main！ Thine is the mercy that cherished our furrows； Thine is the
mercy that fostered our grain。 We bring thee our thanks and our garlands
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for tribute； The wealth of our valleys； new…garnered and ripe； O sender of
rain and the dewfall； we hail thee； We praise thee； Varuna； with cymbal
and pipe。
Women's Voices
Quee