With the lover who claims the passing hour,

Her lips are his, but her eyes aloof

While the starlight falls in a silver shower.

Let him take what pleasure, what love, he may,

He, too, will suffer e’er life be spent,—

But Yasmini’s soul has wandered away

To join the Lover, who came,—and went!

Ahi, Yasmini, He came,—and went!

[1] Indian women wear a small mirror in a ring on their thumbs.

Among the Rice Fields