Jehangir Jivaji Vakil.
II
O LONG BLACK HAIR
O long black hair of love,
In your dark shades a dove,
My heart, circles in rings,
Beating white wings.
Jehangir Jivaji Vakil.
REVELATION
O, I have dreamt on many rain-dim eves
Of Beauty folded in the flowers and leaves,
Spraying the grass with laughter as with light
Of shaken pearls that lit her hair’s dark night;
But never dreamed her eyes so deep might be
As those with which last eve you gazed at me.
SPRING THAT IN MY COURTYARD
Spring that in my courtyard used to make
Such riot once, and buzzing laughter lift,
With heaped drift—
Pomegranate-flowers,
Kanchan, parul, rain of palas-showers;
Spring whose new twigs stirred the woods awake,
With rosy kisses maddening all the sky,[1]
Seeks me out to-day with soundless feet,
Where I sit alone. Her steadfast gaze
Goes out to where the fields and heavens meet;
Beside my silent cottage, silently
She looks and sees the greenness swoon and die
Into the azure haze.
Rabindranath Tagore.