Usha songita; songs of the dawn

THE LIBRARY

OF
THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES

USHA SONGITA

SONGS OF THE DAWN

SRI. JOGESH CHANDER MISROW, M. A., Ph. D.

With An Introduction by
JULIAN B. ARNOLD

Published and Copyrighted, 1 91 9. by J. C. Misrow
233 S. Ashland Blvd., Chicago, U. S. A.

All Rights Reserved

Printed in Chicago. U. S. A.

TO
G. M. V. DEVI

M'fciir?

AND

TO
MY LOVING INSPIRATION

1733171

FOREWORD

AH this is reminiscent !

Since that twilight many things have come to
pass. Yes, they have changed even the face of
the fair earth. But at last the anguish of night's
deep darkness merges into the dawn's vibrant
resplendence in the East.

How different was that adoration in the moon-
light, from this calm worship in the dawn !
To a Brahmin the supreme joy of victory lieth
in the sacredness of Renunciation. Unforgotten
— only Enshrined — so be it to the end !

And these Songs of the Dawn are no more than
faint refrains of my unchanted hymns to Thee.

INTRODUCTION

It has ever been the wont of those, nurtured
under Oriental skies, to express their loftiest
thoughts in verse, leaving to the professional
story-teller the task of reciting in prose national
exploits and mundane happenings. This instinct
of Asia to voice the lispings of her soul in accord
with the rhythms of the universe has enriched
mankind with the splendour of the Vedic hymns ;
with the profound wisdom of the Mahabharata ;
with the astronomical knowledge enshrined in
the Chaldean epic of Gilgamash ; with the en-
during tone of the Iran Avendi ; with the mov-
ing drama of Job; with prayers and prophecies
of Isaiah ; and with the rhapsodies of the Psalms.

To the Occident belongs a sterner instinct, a
grimmer gift. As the light of the sun obeys the
dividing magic of the prism, so the light of
knowledge may be separated into its component
parts, whereof the clearer tints enwrap devo-
tional philosophies while the deeper colours bathe
the pageantries of this material world. The Oc-
cident is richer for the stirring pages of the
Illiad ; the entrancing adventures of Odysseus ;
the clash of arms and the sea breezes of the
Sagas ; the chivalrous teachings of a Roland or a
Cid. But in the realms of religion we, of the
Western world, stand mouthing misty prose
amongst the awed crowds attendant on the dark
ceremonials of the Druids, the bloody sacrifices
to Odin, or the gloomy meetings in the cave or
dell of the early Christians.

As it hath been it will be. In the convoluted
conch-shell the Oriental hears the mystic music
of that eternal Ocean which is the love devine.
In the dust of labour and the bush aflame the
Occidental sees the trodden path to God.

Therefore have we no surprise in finding so
eminent a savant of India as Sri Jogesh Chand-
er Misrow, one who is the holder of the Master
of Arts degree of Stanford and a Doctor of
Philosophy, expressing in untrammeled and ingen-
uous verse the true self of their author in these
SONGS OF THE DAWN. To me it has been
a great privilege to read these poems in their
manuscript form, and I have discerned, as I ven-
ture to think all who must who read with in-
ward vision, that the obscurity of our mental
skies is bravely pierced by the author with a
light of faith in the purposes of life and the
themes of his poems are suffused with the tints
of a Divine Dawn.

It were invidious to select ; but poems are like
eyes, some appeal to us and claim our sepcial at-
tention, admiration. In the "Star-Babies" occurs
a motive so charming that in Elizabethan days it
had been called a pretty conceit; in the "Incar-
nations" the contrast between the golden sands
of Egypt, the snows of the Arctic circle and the
verdant gardens of India are artistically striking;
in the "Moon Stone", we have a song so ardent
yet soft that it might fitly borrow the music of
one of oft sung Indian Love Lyrics, and "Thy
Temple" resounds with fervent ecstasy.

It was a favorite saying of the late Sir Edwin
Arnold that those who think in poesy have clear-
er eyes than those who think in prose, and in
wishing bon voyage to these exquisite verses —
"The Songs of the Dawn" — I would venture to
echo that phrase of the author of the Light of
Asia, who loved so well the earnestness and
depth of the ancient philosophies of India.
Chicago, U. S. A. Julian B. Arnold.

October, 1919.

CONTENTS

Song of the Dawn 17

In the Moon and the Dawn 18

Summer Dawn 19

Star Babies' Moon Mother.... 20

Moonstone 21

ToBengal 22

Sea or Python 23

My City 24

Shuttle of Fate 25

Sun -- Crucifix 26

Incarnations 27

Why Tonight 28

Response 29

Where Tonight 30

Temptation 31

Forlorn 32

New Cross 33

Coronal 34

Star-Thieves 35

Ode to India 36

Anticipation 37

Pain 38

Mystic Sunset 39

Cathedral 40

Sri Gautama . 41

Tonight 42

Bell, Candle and Book 43

VesperSong 44

Thy Temple 45

Mother 46

Peret Hirshbein 47

Ode to the Indian Ocean 48

The Natal Day 50

The Taj Mahal 51

In Nirvana 52

My Unsung Song 53

DAWN

Who shall sing the Song of the Dawn ?
Not he who kept the glory of the eve
Away from his temple,
Barring fast the gates ;

Nor he who dreamt night-long

Of numbers and scales in busy mart

Even though the day was done !

The crescent canoe on the sky-ocean

Sailing to the dreamland

Beckoned in vain to him.

His parched lips sipped

The fiery draught,

Seeking in roar of passion

That which silence alone can give,

In worship of soul by soul —

Vain to him the calm of night.

But he who mutely, gently, night-long

Vigiled the flickering wick of hope

As the storm raged and groaned

Without — within —

Will he now rekindle the sacred flame

With the warmth of his bleeding heart,

Now that the storm is gone,

And darkness is no more —

His is the hour — the day —

Sings he the Song of the Dawn!

17

IN THE MOON AND THE DAWN

Last eve in the moon

Under the bower of the star-vines

I vowed the eternal vow,

I adored Thee as Love.

The evening breeze whispered

The passion-mad plea

Far and wide —

Last eve in the moon.

Today in this Thy dawn,

Under the flaming canopy of heaven,

In the first rays of the rising sun

Thou art transfigured;

I worship Thee now, Goddess!

The morning wind echoes

My sacred chants

Far and wide

Today — in this Thy dawn !

18

SUMMER DAWN

What musings, what far-off dream —

Day-dreams —

Come this dawn of June

As I softly lay my head

Upon the cushion of the grassy knoll

Over the bold hill of Krotona —

Robed in delicate green garb of summer!

I am one with Nature

In Life's inmost sanctury.

I gaze upon the endless blue billows below

And the boundless rosy sky above,

And mine eyes drink deep

From the fount of thy beauty,

Amid these wild flowers that blushingly listen

To the birds' amorous wooing

And bees' jealous petulant groans.

What phantoms come and go!

This dawn, ere the light-flood conies

To sweep night's languor away,

Whilst still throb the warmth of thy touches,

The cadence of thy moans,

Ere all is lost and forgotten,

Oh, let me die the deathless death

In thine own arms !

O beauteous bride, sweet Dawn —

O Infinity of Form!

19

STAR-BABIES' MOON-MOTHER

Hushed is the voice of Night.
The Moon-mother has led out
The Star-babies a-playing
On the blue meadow of the sky.

How frolicsome and gay !
They romp, skip and run away,
Hide-and-seek they play
Behind the tapestries of clouds,
And climb the arches of rainbow,
Then drop upon the earth dew-drops-
Their joy-tears shed in play.

Hushed is the voice of Night.
Where the Earth-children sleep
While the Moon-mother plays
With wide-awake Star-babies
On the blue meadow of the sky,
Far, far away.

20

MOONSTONE

Deep is the sea —

From shore to shore, the sight mergeth

Unto the billowy blue Infinity.

In its depth lies the gem.

In its heart of heart,

Amidst what tumult

Unseen, invisible it shines

In the splendor of seven moons!

Come ! dive deep without faint or fear !

For the lost talisman of immortality

Is worthy of none but thee.

Thou blessed Princess of the Moon

Fear not, though deep is the sea;

Thy moonstone waits for thee.

21

TO BENGAL

A mountain of dark gray clouds

Rises against the roseatte sunset,

My last sunset on thy sacred shores

0 Sweet Bengal — queen of the Indian sea !

The sacred blood of our Sires —

The tears of our mothers and maidens,

Purest of earth's sweetest blossoms —

Envy of the Lotus, Juthie and the Bengal Rose

Came crowding on thy horizon

Fading fast away . . .

Not a sob of wind,

Nor a moan of the Bengal Bay!

From the Mangoe and Cocoanut groves

The Madana, Moyna, Teeah,

Chirp not their salutations sweet,

To me and the parting Day.

Grief-laden and sullen is the earth,

Sullener still the heart.

All is mute at this parting . . .

Then, as the mountain of dark gray clouds

Rises higher and higher hiding Thee from me,

Widens the chasm between us,

Could I but say to Thee, Adieu, Adieu —

My golden Bengal — queen of the Indian Sea!

But silence seals my quivering lips

With cold, cold kisses.

All seems mute at this parting,

Yet what a symphony of the soul
Plays this fallacious silence
On this parting day !
On the Bengal Bay.

22

SEA OR PYTHON?

I/

What a huge blue blazing python

This sea!

Its thousand wave-hoods arched in rage

Hiss fumes of death-gray foams.

It writhes, wriggles, dashes and rolls

In mammoth longitude —

From sky to sky.

How in drunken fury,

It groans and roars, swings and sways

Its breaker fangs^

Darts to smash the sandy beach — the earth.

Oh, whose restless spirit
Is this blue blazing Python,
Whose impetuosity —
This sea?

23

/ MY CITY

Thou art no city,

Nor mortal haunt or mart,

But a living panorama of spirit,

Indomnitable and bold,

Incarnate in these thy myriad

Marble towers, spires and domes —

Heavenward march of Man's inmost urge —

Sincere, invincible!

None but a dull dead soul

May look upon this thy seething whirlpool

Of haunted humanity

And remain insensate — unmoved!

* * *

The breath of dreadful hurricane — thy haste!
In thy broad bosom meet and mingle
The West and East, South and North,
Heaven and Hell — pole to pole!
And thou blendest Past and Future,
Old and New, in one great flood of light.
Thy ever-living Present rushes on,
Conquering all, inspiring all —
Lo ! the city of faith's eternal flame !

24

SHUTTLE OF FATE

Weave ye shuttle of Fate,
Weave on the fabric of life
A new and abiding pattern,
For the hour has come
To alter the "scroll of Norn."

Through the silent depth of night,
And loudly sonorous day-long,
Weave on silently — the hour cometh !
Unaware we waited long, too long.
You in a lonely castle in Sunset Land
And I in the wilderness of cities,
Awaiting these Ides of March.
We knew not it was so nigh.
We hats,ened not,
Nor shall we tarry now,
On the path of the pilgrimage far.
* * *

Inscrutable the design

Thou hast woven with skill,

O, shuttle of Fate,

With time and space,

Two hearts with thirst of ages,

A few flowers of worship,

Of love and hope, a few kisses,

A whisper, tears of joy and pain,

And a soul's homage to a soul —

Awaiting silently in the lonely castle,

So near, yet, so far, far away.

25

THE SUN OR THE CRUCIFIX?

The sun, a huge crucifix,
Wallows in an ocean of blood.
Wave after wave rises and dances
Upon the far horizon
In the flaming East.

Whence this mad rhythm of Nirvana?
And what is that upon the crimson crucifix?
In the fast fading myriad shapes and colours
Transforming this mysterious Cross of majesty,
I read a symbol vast and true —

A Soul crucified, and more !

* * *

The scarlet hues of the eastern sky
Like frozen red dream-waves heave,
Alas! from whose torn heart?
Whose tears unshed?
Whose cry unheard?

26

INCARNATIONS

Only yesternight,

In the shadow of the Pyramids,

My own Goddess, Thou and I

Watching in silence,

Saw the folly of Pharaoh

And pride of Cleo of the Nile.

Thy rose-lips quivering

In soft sweet whispering —

And mine?

Ah, yesternight on the shore of the Nile,

How brief the short-lived joy !

Yesternight —

It seems but yesternight —

In a valley of midnight sun

Between snow-crowned crags of the North

Again we watched

The fury of the fjords.

In strange hush of misty light —

The same maddening fury —

But ah, how brief was the short-lived joy.

Yea, again,

And yesternight by the moon

In the Peacock garden on the Ganges shore

Amid perpetual spring of youth

At the threshold of Kama's Ivory Temple

How . . . how we met.

Yesternight !

For it seems but yesternight.

And tonight . . .

27

WHY TONIGHT

Why from the fount of immortality

Hast thou filled tonight

This golden goblet of thine, Beloved?

Churning of what ocean deep

Has yielded this new ambrosia of hope ?

To waken what slumbering soul,

Draught by draught,

Dances this sparkling primal rhythm

In sun and moon and stars and man,

Thrilling with blind uncertain joy. . . .

But why bringest thou so close
This golden goblet of thyself, so frail,
The first vintage of thy youth,
Nectar of the immaculate lotus-bud
From thy pool of love infinite —

To these parched lips of aeons tonight ?
* * *

Open are the Ivory Gates,

A joy-mad earth and hell and paradise,

Death and decay are conquered all !

Tonight the soul of soul awakes.

A thousand suns shall shine, night-long;

There shall be no space, no time !

The divine crown is again

Upon the brow of Nature's Queen —

Thou, my Beloved, my Eternity!

28

RESPONSE

Faint, frail, uncertain of itself,
Leaned back in silence
In repose of sweet agony
In the temple of Night.
The stars and moon above
Swooned in enchanted sympathy.

No, no, away! peep not

Into this lonesome heart's castle.

Come not so close !

Away from this forbidden garden!

Has it been guarded in vain,

Awaiting this thy triumphant entry?

Ah, this fateful night,

I know not myself.

Oh, for the awakening of what dead soul

Bringest thou me thy response?

This all-conquering animation,

This world-desire, like an avalanche,

Swift, blind, and impetuous

Sweeps all — bold and majestic.

Tell me, Moon and sweet Star-Maidens

Through the voice of the South wind,

Why in my blood this delirium?

Do you feel with me the same thrills —

Tonight, in the far-off sky?

Ah, 'tis then the conspiracy of Fate.

Come ! be all, and take all

Of this garden of life.

29

V'

Where tonight?

Wandering in what far-off clime,

Under what strange stars,

Watching what deep sea's surging billows —

Like the restless soul,

Forsaken

But unforgotten!

Oh! Where tonight?

Can it there hear the call

Of the shoreless, endless expectancy —

Can it there see and feel —

Impatient wooing of the rebellious April breeze

To spring's adolescent jessamine buds

So illuding, amorous and shy —

In the pale desolate moon tonight. . . .

30

TEMPTATION

If step by step, hand in hand,

Thou hast led me on

To the Ivory Temple of Dream,

Now bid me in, Beloved.

Vain this bashful hesitancy now.

The rebellious joy,

Wakened in the bosom,

Is impatient as captive doves ;

The whole form is a-thrilled

In throbs of expectancy.

Surging ocean waves

Rock and swing in primal rhythm

Round the temple of living Spirit

In ecstasy of worship —

Vain this faltering now.

On thy rose-petaled eager lips

Comes the sw?eet silent call,

Thine eyes drooping and shy, beckon

The message of the North Star;

Bid me in, Beloved,

Into thy temple of worship,

Lest the moon mock me from above.

And the night wind spread idle tales

Far and wide.

31

FORLORN

How impalpable this emptiness —
In the stillness of starlight
Through the spangles of mist
I see not far, very far —
I look and look and look in vain
Where it was. The night-long
Primal warmth of ecstasy
Graces my bosom no more.

The dew-draped dawn

Smiled at the morning glory;

And a stray nightingale

Sang its far lone refrain.

The vision smiled and murmured

And nestled closer, and throbbed.

As the night fled, dishevelled and deflowered,

The snow-shrouds covered evergreen Earth

With the widowed mantle of peace!

Oh, Ave Maria of the morning breeze!

32

NEW CROSS

What new cross wilt thou bid me bear?
In what sackcloth and ashes repent?
Of what wild honey and locust-flower
Wouldst Thou, the New Prophet, partake?
Through the valley of the shadow of death
To what Golgotha and Gethsemene
Will there be the new Dawn
And the New Faith proclaimed?
.What old temple will burst asunder
From spire to the base —
Cataclysm and earthquake —
The mortal globe wrecked to dust

By reign of terror and tears.

* * *

The cross is growing heavier,

The crown of thorns pains the brow;

The lance has pierced the heart;

Life is ebbing out in precious flow.

But, Oh, the will — the will — is not done!

Still unquaffed the cup's bitter dregs.

* * *

Then adieu, farwell, fair earth !

This new cross, ladder of my paradise

For the unspoken whisper

I have waited aeons to impart

Now I avow —

Yea, though it costs me the cross. . . .

33

CORONAL

Why weep these tears

In this thine hour of triumph,

My Fairy Princess,

Known to me from birth to birth?

Thou hast oft eluded me,

Now thy hour cometh once more.

Why then weepest thou these tears?

May they not again extinguish

The flame of abiding faith and love

On the altar of thy heart's core,

My Fairy Princess,

My own Love-Queen?

For this worship of an hour
Have I not waited aeons?
From the star to the star,
Moon to the moon, near and far
The long, long quest
From birth to birth. . . .
With my love-light and lyrics
I have brought my heart's throne
To enthrone thee forever — ever,
Queen of Love's Universe. . . .

34

STAR-THIEVES

The moonbeams are made

Of thy laughter,

Thy breath makes fragrant

The spring's South Sea breeze.

Cunning star-thieves steal

The merry twinkle from thine eyes.

But tonight I forgive them;

They remind me of thee.

I am alone.

Raven locks and tresses
Borrowed from thy graces —
They waken in me thy caresses,
Tonight, when I am lonely.

35

/ ODE TO INDIA

Inde, my Inde, how sweet thy memory !
Dearest land of sacred lores,
Shrine-abode of world-faiths —
Man's hope of hopes !

From thy enchanted woodlands
Come the echoes of bird-minstrels,
The Syamas' whistles,
The Papias' songs,
Keel's cooing long.
The shy bride-eyed fawn's play,
In the mossy dales and bowers ;
Dance of the proud peacock gay ;
The Apsara-fairies gambol
About sky-kissing Deodars
Entwined with frail Malati vines.

The maidens of bronze and golden hue

With bee-black eyes, coral lips,

Languorously weave wreathes of Bakula,

In shades of the Taj by the Lotus-lake;

And gaze at the dome of frozen tears —

Token of Love's triumph o'er Death.

What a Paradise on earth unfolds

To these exiled eyes.

Soul's worship to Thee,

And the heart's holiest homage,

Stronger than sword's sharpest pledge

Are thine and thine own,

Above all the world

For all the time,

All the time, O Inde !

36

ANTICIPATION

i

This last day of the cycle of the years,

As we sit by the fire,

What visions come and fade!

What signs unfold!

Gently the earth beneath kisses your lotus feet.

The world looks fair and fresh and free ;

Sky so beautiful, so enchantingly blue;

How glorious is the sun !

You have given it your heart's warmth

To waft to me on ethereal wings.

The languor of the virgin Eve — beaming

With her youth's intoxicating moonbeams,

Is but the image of thine own expectant smile,

In anticipation —

Of the dawn of the new Aeon !

37

j PAIN

Ah, Fate give me back my pain,

From the soul of the young and the aged,

From the heart of the new and the old

Pour me all the world's pain.

Vast is my bosom — the void . . .

Deep as the soundless seas

In thy boundless abode

Long have I loved to adore.

0 Fate, give me back my pain
Ever truest unto me
Unfailing in her trysts

Clinging closer, closer to my heart.

* * *

Then come, from those sunset shores
Within this enchanted bower
That in Life's scented sanctuary

1 may woo thee again, 0 Pain !

With caresses of love's festive hour . . .
Pain, 0 world pain, O love . . .
As the rose-bud shiveringly blushes
At the bees' first tender touches,
There blends the rhythm of hues
With melodies of hum and moans.
So are thine echoes inexplicable
On my desolate harp of soul.
P)orn with the Earth's first-born —
Whose joy art thou, O Pain!
My all in all, my very own . . .

38

MYSTIC SUNSET

What mysterious signs on the horizon —

Can this be only a sunset?

No, no ! who has ever seen such a sky

As we two see from the niche of thy bovver,

Over forests green towers,

And snow-clad dales.

Far, far out,

The sky is an ocean of soft light,

As far as we two can see

And beyond. . . .

O Thou sacred Land of the Aryans —
Inde, our asylum of hope,
Far, far out, across the sea of light,
We greet Thee with heart and soul —
Our dreams and hopes.

O the golden-crowned monarch,

O the purple-robed king of the sky

And lord of the virgin dawn,

Two of thy children,

Love-lorn and weary

Look at Thee

With wistful eyes and eager hearts,

Seeking a nook to nest young love,

A refuge from a stolid world,

From a decaying, death-dealing horde.

May these mysterious signs then
Forbode the fulfilment of our dream
Call us to the holy Ganges shores,
In joy and glory of freedom!

39

/ CATHEDRAL

What a towering green-blue dome

Of foliage overhead

Kisses the azure sky.

Corridor of arches dense and deep

The mammoth boughs outspread,

Rest on the columns of ivory gray

Living monoliths tall and straight !

Entwining all, climb and cling

The vines of Kanaka Lata —

Golden ivies with blushing coral blossoms

Peep through the veil of purple mist.

Incense of the flowering spring

W'afts with the heavy moan

Of the wooing and the mating doves,

Languorous in the slumbering shade above.

Steeped in majestic calm of ages
Awaits, alas, whose pilgrimage,
Whose loving worship
This Cathedral of the Bodhee tree !

40

SRI GAUTAMA

Enshrined in the temple of space

Enthroned on Eternity

Thine gemmed-lotus — the Mahasan

Heart of Humanity.

The star-candles,

The silvery Mirror of the Moon,

The gong of pealing thunders

The sonorous tolls of thousand vesper bells

In the distant roar of the Deep.

These are but meagre adoration
Of Thee—
O blessed Gautama!
Thy golden chariot
On million Sun-disks,
Wheels 'round the Infinity,
With what a resplendence !
Thy loving wisdom, joy of growth —
Unfolds soul of Freedom and Peace —
Thy song of Nirvana,
Brings whispers of undying Hope !

•41

TONIGHT

The dreadful Angel

With dark wings overspread

Enmeshes the earth from pole to pole.

The rain, her sobs,

The snow, her frozen tears,

The wild winds of the West, her sighs.

Tonight all is dread, terror and tears.

Lo, those death-dark wings come nearer now,

Strangle life, pull heart-strings

And wildly laugh and mock,

They crush and crush

Atom by atom, petal by petal,

Youth's sweetest dream-rose,

Hope's choicest bud !

How cruel night's dark wings !

42

BELL, CANDLE, AND BOOK

Bell, Candle and Book,

A little incense and myrrh —

No purple crepe

Nor any black-gowned pale-faced mourner,

No orgies of tears and sobs and sighs,

Mocking and insensate,

When I pass unto Nirvana!

The bells of the west wind

Blowing in gale,

The candles of the midnight stars

On the salver of the sky,

And this Thy Book of Fate

With life's hidden lores unsipped, unexplored,

A single violet or lotus,

Sweet flower of fancy

In the garden of Thine and mine,

Are all that I ask.

Sing no songs of sorrow,
No psaltry of sobs ;
Toll no other bells,
Light no other candles,
Read no other book
When I flicker out —
Unto Nirvana!

No heavy stones on my frail form,

My cold ,cold ashes.

Memorial ?

Only a pearl wreath

Woven of thy tear-drops

My last memories

Mothered in Earth's bosom

With thy Bell, Candle and Book!

43

THE VESPER SONG

My Love, O come, and watch with me
The farewell beams kissing the sea ;
With bridal veils of evening trails,
Sweetly entwines each vine and tree.
In primal chants the gentle lea,
As love-lorn lights longingly flee,
Whispers soft in its vesper glee —
Come, Soul-mate, come ! Heart longs for thee.
Ah, arm in arm, our hearts beat one :
Love's coronal though far :s won —
Thus we triumph, though world forsak'n,
This eve regain our long lost heav'n !

THY TEMPLE

Oh, where shall I build Thee a temple,
The sky so low, dwarfs its spires,
The Void small, ah, too small,
The universe none too wide for a base,
For thy fitting Temple
O Loving Goddess mine . . .
How shall I worship Thee —
All the flowers of all the lands,
Of every season and hue and scent,
And the flaming lotus of my soul
Have I sanctified in offering to Thee,
Loving Goddess mine.
And where are my chant and rosary ?
Amid the deep symphony of the Seas
The wild gale danceth with wilder waves
Thy vestal virginal dance of my senses . .
My rosary of the Stars —
Thunder Heralds on chariot of clouds
Mingle their trumpet blares,
With the sweet choristers of the song birds-
Vesper and Matin of their strains . . .
The Planets dance in Space
A timeless, endless, ceaseless dance
In my own ecstasy.
Shall Thy Temple be—
In my Soul 's inmost sanctuary T

MOTHER

Thine own garland this

I lay at thy lotus feet,

Mother mine

Woven of strange blossoms though,

Plucked from strange gardens

Across the seven seas,

On this pilgrimage from shore to shore

Away, far away from Thee . . .

Thine own hymn this,

I now scribe and chant,

Mother mine,

Though in tongues strange,

Of distant lands and lores,

Across the seven seas

On this pilgrimage from shore to shore

Seeking a Hymnal for Thee . . .

Thine own worship —

All my noble thought and deed

Mother Mine !

In thy boundless love,

1 have made the world one with me !

May I live and labour and die for Thee ;

Sing the song of Thy freedom —

Wherever may I be,

Thine annointed and ordained!

Unconquered, unconquerable —

O. Mother Mine !

46

TO PERET HIRSHBEIN

Thou celestial song-bard!

Poet-priest of Youth's abiding hope,

The enduring faith of Ages.

How the world old dreams,

Once sleeping in the stars

And in the eyes of youth,

Now kiss the light, on the wings

Of thy colors and shades and words.

Glory, joy, mirth, love,

Weave pearl wreaths of morning dew.

Fancy with her amorous arms

And vibrant ruby lips sips

Nectar from life's first feast

Of Passion sublime!

47

ODE TO THE INDIAN OCEAN

Ocean, Indian Ocean, my own ocean !
I^ast eve did I hear in thee,
The uproar — tumult of a soul ;
A voice that shivered to the suns,
And the moons and the stars,
And to all the worlds unseen!

Came there life's first ecstasy —
The rebellious adolescence,
Amid the rapturous song of thy tides.
In the dance of thy impatient waves,
Came to the eyes a vision sublime,
Playing with the heart's impetuous flames.
In what a holocaust of raging passion,
The whole universe was aflame —
I^ast eve as I gazed upon thee !

But this dawn —

As thou reclinest on the divan

Of the ivory shores of Jagamnath,

So langourous, pale and wan,

What a gentle melody comes in thy moans !

What loving caresses —

In thy million arms. Now calm —

All is calm, without — within !

The incense-kissed breeze of the dawn
Plays with thy golden locks;
Scatters them to the four-winds,
Then weaves them into garlands,
Of new planets and globes !

48

The call of the Puri Matin-bells

Mingles with the melody of thy echoes,

Summon all to the Temple of Silence —

A hush . . .

Thou ecstasy of triumphant hopes

Ocean, Indian ocean, My ocean !

My very own . . .

49

I/ NATAL DAY

To-day is the day of days
Thy natal day, my love
And loves crowning day !
What shall I offer thee,
Princess mine, my love-goddess
With what shall I worship thee —
On this day of day — thy natal day?

^ 5

The ruby-red roses,
Of my ocean deep passion —
Have I not offered thee
Long, long ago? And did not you
Crush them to thy bosom —
In ecstasy of response?
My silver-white rosary,
I brought to thee,
My calm dreams;
Thine also the incense
Of my soul's resplendent gleam ;
Thine the golden lotus
With the thousand petals —
My lyrics of the Dawn —
For thee — all for thee.
On this day of day, and evermore!
Ah, what else havejl, but thyself?

so

THE TAJ MAHAL

The Taj now like a huge white swan
Floats on the ocean of moon beams,
As the world round vanishes
Into the opalesque ethereal mists
Of this autumn full moon night.

There is naught but the pale pangs

Silhoueted in an earthly form

In this silent shrine of sorrow

This Palace of Pain.

This lyric in stone chaste and enduring

O what a refrain brings from the Past —

They that build shrines to the vain gods,

Or fearsome ghosts, cruel phantoms,

Or the unseen hosts of the skies,

May scoff at thee, pass thee by, unheeding;

But O marble mausoleum, every atom of thee,

Is but frozen anguish and ecstasy of love.

Art thou not a living throbbing loving Token.

Of all that Man feels and forfeits,

At the Altar of the One lost yet adored

In this pilgrimage of Life to Death !

Symbol of a soul's enduring bliss, art thou,

O TAJ— O noble Temple of Tears !

51

IN NIRVANA

X<>, Thou art gone; but not dead!
Thou can'st not die, O spirit invincible !
invisible though now, Beloved,
Thou art neares^to me than ever before,
1 Dwelling in my own temple of thought !

The Champa, Shefali and Jui yet bloom.
At rise and set of the Sun and the Moon ;
The birds sing and the bees hum ;
Murmuring flows the Ganges streams.
Do they not bring the far off echoes of thy voice?
When all is here; all who adored thee.—
What if atom to atom did fly?
The dust unto the dusty earth —
To the tempest impetuous, thy breath ;
To the clouds the water and tears ;
Elements play of hide and seek —
On the lap of adoring Nature, all this !

But thy spirit?

So gentle and sweet and loving —
Closest of all my kin^ on this globe.
By the tie of flesh and blood.
Faith and hope and more!
Lo, this incense upward climbing,
Vault by vault, star by star,
To the seven heavens and the beyond.
I ,ike pilgrimage of thy soul of soul !

Shall I weep and sob and sigh
For thee, O child of Immortality ?
When through the Gates of Death
Into the Shrine of Infinity of Bliss
Attainest thou thy quest — thy Mukti.
O child of Brahman, so sweet and free !
For thee now is the Repose,
In the glory of the Nirvana !

52

UNSONG SONG

The unsung song wails,
Wails for the lost chord
From the gray depths of ocean
To the tower of the stars —
All is wailing,
Wailing.

Day-long, night-long,

Vault to vault,

Echoing in eternal throbs,

Danceth in color and sound,

In aeons of autumn, summer and spring

My own unsung song.

The whisperings of my soul —

I hear in chirping birds !

The wail of the west wind,

Thunder of the cloud-sprite,

Incessant calling of the sea,

And the dreamy hum of the honey-bees

Bring but a faint refrain

Through the infinite rhythm

Of my own unsung song!

53

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