She decks the quiet clouds where fancies dwell
With sweet translucent gleam and melting hue
To woo my swooning sense with softer spell
Of blissful pink and hyacinthine blue.
"Life," said the Rajah, "is the fairest of flowers, and its beauty and fragrance are for him who plucks."
"Plucks," sighed one, "to find it wither in his grasp."
Said the Rajah, "To do justice to life, one must forget death."
"Forgetfulness may be desirable," said another, "but how shall it be attained? How deny the tyrant who at each sunset demands his tribute dues of sleep, and enwraps my vassal being in dull oblivion?"
"By ill-conditioned fears," replied the Rajah, "men invite evil. To him who desires the solace of ghostly companionship shall the spectres troop, a phantom in every shadow, and with him make their abode. He who fears is already overcome. To the man who would live there must be no death. For me, I love the rosy, teeming present; to-morrow is with the gods, and I for one," he added laughing, "will not be guilty of an impious theft by anticipating their gifts."