Of those Maids of Heaven—the Hûris. Lo! to these we gave a birth
Specially creating. Lo! they are not as the wives of earth.
Ever virginal and stainless, howsooften they embrace,
Always young, and loved, and loving, these are. Neither is there grace,
Like the grace and bliss the Black-eyed keep for you in Paradise;
Oh, "Companions of the Right Hand"! oh! ye others who were wise!
DEDICATION OF A POEM FROM THE SANSKRIT.
Sweet, on the daisies of your English grave
I lay this little wreath of Indian flowers,
Fragrant for me because the scent they have
Breathes of the memory of our wedded hours;
For others scentless; and for you, in heaven,
Too pale and faded, dear dead wife! to wear,
Save that they mean—what makes all fault forgiven—
That he who brings them lays his heart, too, there.
April 9, 1865.