She, the fairest of these maidens, she the rarest of them all, knowing Love in its intensity, living all its bliss.
And when He, the Lord of Love, vanished from the dancing Gopis, she, sweet Rādhā, with Him vanished.
And they wandered in the deep groves, these, the Twain, Who in Glory dwelt, she the loving, He the Lover, both the Blissful, both the Purest.
He the dew-kissed flowers gathered, twining them about the maiden. But the flowers in their beauty were not half as fair as she; and sweet Rādhā, pearl of maidens, gazed with love-light in her eyes, knowing naught was half so lovely as the hands that placed them there.
Thus 'they roamed in shadowy moonlight, rested here in softened shadows, chanting love-songs to each other, knowing naught but pure delight, till a-wearied with her roaming, Rādhā begged to cool her feet in the smiling waves of Jumnā, that she spied there in the moonlight.
Krishna, greatest of all lovers, lightly stooped to lift the maiden, and in loving arms to bear her where the smiling waters rippled.
But within the breast of Rādhā, at that act, pride sprang to being, and within that home of Love vanity crept and nestled there.
For a moment Krishna held her, then with lightning swiftness from her side He vanished.
But in that twinkle of a moment Rādhā knew what her sin was and, aware of her enemy, the selfless love, which was her Self, her deity supreme, arose and quenched all thirst of vanity.
Quickly gliding through the forest, she again did join the Gopis, spying in the further distance Krishna soothing one and all. To His side she lightly stepped, she, the radiant, she. His Heaven-Mate, purged from sin and lightly clothed with the love that knew but Him.