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stream Are stirring like sweet maidens when they dream。
A caste…mark on the azure brows of Heaven； The golden moon burns
sacred； solemn； bright The winds are dancing in the forest…temple； And
swooning at the holy feet of Night。 Hush！ in the silence mystic voices sing
And make the gods their incense…offering。
IN THE FOREST
Here； O my heart； let us burn the dear dreams that are dead； Here in
this wood let us fashion a funeral pyre Of fallen white petals and leaves
that are mellow and red； Here let us burn them in noon's flaming torches
of fire。
We are weary； my heart； we are weary； so long we have borne The
heavy loved burden of dreams that are dead； let us rest； Let us scatter their
ashes away； for a while let us mourn； We will rest； O my heart； till the
shadows are gray in the west。
But soon we must rise； O my heart； we must wander again Into the war
of the world and the strife of the throng； Let us rise； O my heart； let us
gather the dreams that remain； We will conquer the sorrow of life with the
sorrow of song。
PAST AND FUTURE
THE NEW HATH COME AND NOW THE OLD RETIRES： And so
the past becomes a mountain…cell； Where lone； apart； old hermit…memories
dwell In consecrated calm； forgotten yet Of the keen heart that hastens to
forget Old longings in fulfilling new desires。
And now the Soul stands in a vague； intense Expectancy and anguish
of suspense； On the dim chamber…threshold 。 。 。 lo！ he sees Like a strange；
fated bride as yet unknown； His timid future shrinking there alone；
Beneath her marriage…veil of mysteries。
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THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
LIFE
Children； ye have not lived； to you it seems Life is a lovely stalactite
of dreams； Or carnival of careless joys that leap About your hearts like
billows on the deep In flames of amber and of amethyst。
Children； ye have not lived； ye but exist Till some resistless hour shall
rise and move Your hearts to wake and hunger after love； And thirst with
passionate longing for the things That burn your brows with blood…red
sufferings。
Till ye have battled with great grief and fears； And borne the conflict
of dream…shattering years； Wounded with fierce desire and worn with
strife； Children； ye have not lived： for this is life。
THE POET'S LOVE…SONG
In noon…tide hours； O Love； secure and strong；I need thee not； mad
dreams are mine to bindThe world to my desire； and hold the wind A
voiceless captive to my conquering song。I need thee not； I am content with
these：Keep silence in thy soul； beyond the seas！
But in the desolate hour of midnight； whenAn ecstasy of starry silence
sleepsOn the still mountains and the soundless deeps； And my soul
hungers for thy voice； O then；Love； like the magic of wild melodies；Let
thy soul answer mine across the seas。
TO THE GOD OF PAIN
Unwilling priestess in thy cruel fane； Long hast thou held me； pitiless
god of Pain； Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows； My tired breast girt
with suffering； and my brows Anointed with perpetual weariness。 Long
have I borne thy service； through the stress Of rigorous years； sad days
and slumberless nights； Performing thine inexorable rites。
For thy dark altars； balm nor milk nor rice； But mine own soul thou'st
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THE GOLDEN THRESHOLD
ta'en for sacrifice： All the rich honey of my youth's desire； And all the
sweet oils from my crushed life drawn； And all my flower…like dreams and
gem…like fire Of hopes up…leaping like the light of dawn。
I have no more to give； all that was mine Is laid； a wrested tribute； at
thy shrine； Let me depart； for my whole soul is wrung； And all my
cheerless orisons are sung； Let me depart； with faint limbs let me creep To
some dim shade and sink me down to sleep。
THE SONG OF PRINCESS ZEB…UN…NISSA IN PRAISE OF HER
OWN BEAUTY
（From the Persian）
When from my cheek I lift my veil； The roses turn with envy pale；
And from their pierced hearts； rich with pain； Send forth their fragrance
like a wail。
Or if perchance one perfumed tress Be lowered to the wind's caress；
The honeyed hyacinths complain； And languish in a sweet distress。
And； when I pause； still groves among； （Such loveliness is mine） a
throng Of nightingales awake and strain Their souls into a quivering
song。
INDIAN DANCERS
Eyes ravished with rapture； celestially panting； what passionate
bosoms aflaming withfire Drink deep of the hush of the hyacinth
heavens that glimmer around them in fountains of light； O wild and
entrancing the strain of keen music that cleaveth the stars like a wail of
desire； And beautiful dancers with houri…like faces bewitch the
voluptuous watches of night。
The scents of red roses and sandalwood flutter and die in the maze of
their gem…tangled hair； And smiles are entwining like magical ser…
pents the poppies of lips that are opiate… sweet； Their glittering garments
of purple are burn… ing like tremulous dawns in the quiver… ing air； And
exquisite； subtle and slow are the tinkle and tread of their rhythmical；
slumber… soft feet。
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Now silent； now singing and swaying and swing… ing； like blossoms
that bend to the breezes or showers； Now wantonly winding； they flash；
now they falter； and； lingering； languish in radiant choir； Their jewel…
girt arms and warm； wavering； lily… long fingers enchant through
melodious hours； Eyes ravished with rapture； celestially pant… ing；
what passionate bosoms aflaming with fire！
MY DEAD DREAM
Have you found me； at last； O my Dream？ Seven aeons ago You died
and I buried you deep under forests of snow。 Why have you come hither？
Who bade you awake from your sleep And track me beyond the cerulean
foam of the deep？
Would you tear from my lintels these sacred green garlands of leaves？
Would you scare the white； nested； wild pigeons of joy from my eaves？
Would you touch and defile with dead fingers the robes of my priest？
Would you weave your dim moan with the chantings of love at my
feast？
Go back to your grave； O my Dream； under forests of snow； Where a
heart…riven child hid you once； seven aeons ago。 Who bade you arise
from your darkness？ I bid you depart！ Profane not the shrines I have
raised in the clefts of my heart。
DAMAYANTE TO NALA IN THE HOUR OF
EXILE
（A fragment）
Shalt thou be conquered of a human fate My liege； my lover； whose
imperial head Hath never bent in sorrow of defeat？ Shalt thou be
vanquished； whose imperial feet Have shattered armies and stamped
empires dead？ Who shall unking thee； husband of a queen？ Wear thou thy
majesty inviolate。 Earth's glories flee of human eyes unseen； Earth's
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kingdoms fade to a remembered dream； But thine henceforth shall be a
power supreme； Dazzling command and rich dominion； The winds thy
heralds and thy vassals all The silver…belted planets and the sun。 Where'er
the radiance of thy coming fall； Shall dawn for thee her saffron footcloths
spread； Sunset her purple canopies and red； In serried splendour； and the
night unfold Her velvet darkness wrought with starry gold For kingly
raiment； soft as cygnet…down。 My hair shall braid thy temples like a