Noon after noon I watched the Bulbuls build,
And saw with hungry eyes the Sun-birds pair.
None came, and none will come; no use to wait,—
Youth’s fragrance dies, its tender light dies down.
I will arise, before it grows too late,
And seek the noisy brilliance of the town.
These many waiting years I longed for gold,
Now must I needs console me with alloy.
Before this beauty fades, this pulse grows cold,
I may not love, I will at least enjoy!