The Broken Wing: Songs of Love, Death & Destiny, 1915-1916

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John Lane Company, 1917 - English poetry - 120 pages
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Page 57 - Hide me in a shrine of roses, Drown me in a wine of roses Drawn from every fragrant grove ! Bind me on a pyre of roses, Burn me in a fire of roses, Crown me with the rose of Love ! The Peacock Lute Songs for Music " Iram's soft lute, with sorrow in its strings...
Page 52 - OI am tired of strife and song and festivals and fame, And long to fly where cassia-woods are breaking into flame. Love, come with me where koels call from flowering glade and glen, Far from the toil and weariness, the praise and prayers of men. O let us fling all care away, and lie alone and dream...
Page 5 - To the drum beats of duty, the sabres of doom. Gathered like pearls in their alien graves Silent they sleep by the Persian waves, Scattered like shells on Egyptian sands, They lie with pale brows and brave, broken hands, They are strewn like blossoms mown down by chance On the blood-brown meadows of Flanders and France. Can ye measure the grief of the tears I weep Or compass the woe of the watch I keep ? Or the pride that thrills thro...
Page 62 - You held a wild-flower in your finger-tips, Idly you pressed it to indifferent lips, Idly you tore its crimson leaves apart . . . Alas! it was my heart. You held a wine-cup in your finger-tips, Lightly you raised it to indifferent lips, Lightly you drank and flung away the bowl Alas! it was my soul.
Page 79 - IF you call me I will come Swifter, O my Love, Than a trembling forest deer Or a panting dove, Swifter than a snake that flies To the charmer's thrall . . . If you call me I will come Fearless what befall.
Page 66 - Longing ROUND the sadness of my days Breaks a melody of praise Like a shining storm of petals, Like a lustrous rain of pearls, From the lutes of eager minstrels, From the lips of glowing girls. Round the sadness of my nights Breaks a carnival of lights. . . . But amid the gleaming pageant Of life's gay and dancing crowd Glides my cold heart like a spectre In a rose-encircled shroud. Love, beyond these lonely years Lies there still a shrine of tears, A dim sanctuary of sorrow...
Page 55 - And a young Banjara driving her cattle Lifts up her voice as she glitters by In an ancient ballad of love and battle Set to the beat of a mystic tune, And the faint stars gleam in the eastern sky To herald a rising moon. Sarojini Naidu.
Page 54 - A brown quail cries from the tamarisk bushes, A bulbul calls from the cassia-plume, And thro' the wet earth the gentian pushes Her spikes of silvery bloom. Where'er the foot of the bright shower passes Fragrant and fresh delights unfold ; The wild fawns feed on the scented grasses, Wild bees on the cactus-gold. An ox-cart stumbles upon the rocks, And a wistful music pursues the breeze From a shepherd's pipe as he gathers his flocks Under the pipa/-trees.
Page 53 - And long to fly where cassia-woods are breaking into flame. Love, come with me where koels call from flowering glade and glen, Far from the toil and weariness, the praise and prayers of men. O let us fling all care away, and lie alone and dream 'Neath tangled boughs of tamarind and molsari and neem ! And bind our brows with jasmine sprays and play on carven flutes, To wake the slumbering serpent-kings among the banyan roots And roam at fall of eventide along the river's brink, And bathe in water-lily...
Page 44 - Whose hearts are thy home and thy shield and thine altar. Lo! we would thrill the high stars with thy story, And set thee again in the forefront of glory. Hindus: Mother! the flowers of our worship have crowned thee! Parsees: Mother! the flame of our hope shall surround thee! Mussulmans: Mother! the sword of our love shall defend thee! Christians: Mother! the song of our faith shall attend thee! All Creeds: Shall not our dauntless devotion avail thee? Harken! O queen and O goddess, we hail thee!

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