Up to the
mountain ridge
Once
a one-eyed doe strayed;
But there was
a lonely hut
Where
a lonely hunter stayed.
She could not
see the valley
That
deepened on her right;
But then felt
an arrow whiz,—
She
knew her mate in fright.
Swifter than
death's weapon
She
leaped beyond the cloud:
In a sky
where burn stars of love
Doe-eyed
souls to her bowed.
10 July 1998
Monday
morning just at 4 o'clock
I heard a
sudden sound,
As though
some impatient spirits
Were moving
around.
"Give us
our share," was their shout
From across
the street;
"Our
viand and our wine in red pots,
Our choicest
treat."
No oil-lamp
burned in the temple,
None slept in
the yard;
The trusted
watchman had gone home,
Leaving God
himself to guard.
Alarmed, the
seeress from her face
Tore the
night's veil;
Compassionate
eyes poured peace
Happy dawn to
hail.
13 July 1998