The Tale   Love, every time you come to me And say you have come to stay, I put on my brief ecstasy, And then I run away.   You ask too much, my heart's afraid To give up all, — it flies, Resumes its old safe masquerade, And hugs its old sweet lies.   In patient trust You wait and call, And wait for many a day; But when I don't return at all, You quietly go away.   And all my heart's a stone of pain, I curse me that I fail: But when, O Love, you come again, I still repeat the tale. Page-55

Agni   Springing fire and dancing flame, Ecstatic to the tips, A-crackling joy-sparks, where your name Smoke-twirls and thins and slips...   Upward and upward laugh and sing, Within the spaceless night, The glory of the Fire-King, His endless realms of Light.   Page-32

-140_Life's Riddle Life's Riddle   One lined the ominous shadows With sunlight of the soul, And poured the honey moon-wine Into this clayey bowl;   With filaments of silver Knotted up joy and pain, In nets of gleaming wonder Dream-veiled the seer-eyed brain.   A mystery and magic Are woven everywhere, Within us and around us, Entangled in earth's air:   The shadows and the sunlight, The mystic wine and mud, Life's purity and passion All run within our blood.   We cross Time's riddling waters Towards prophetic seas, Voices of deep assurance Surging from vasts of peace. Page-142

Awaiting   Beloved, because eternities Never close their gate, Within an endless joyful peace Eternally I waif.   Within my silence, soon or late, Your sweet voice shall be heard; And so in utter faith I wait The coming of your Word.   Men marvel why I do not care,  Or at my patience's store; But You, Love know I'd wait for ever, Waiting within your door. Page-26

To Agni   O Fire of God, eater of the sacrifice, Destroyer, raven up the rotting grave, Consume the dead, the wood, the balming spice, Spring forth and purify, illumine, save.   O thunder-bolt speed down, fall fast as fate, Across the pitch-dark sky to the stony night, Where all the murky, muddy pools stagnate, O Grace of God, flash far your sun-delight.   O Love that burns, soul-piercing, flaming dart, Lift high the singing sacrifice, above; Within your red-gold rapture fold the heart, Transmute both mind and body in your love. Page-96

Alchemy   All my being turns to music When I think of Thee; Within each nerve-stream flows the honey Of Thy felicity.   When I contemplate Thy being, My mind's a glow of light; Silence widens to the spheres, I am gathered to Thy sight.   My heart I fling within Thy heart; Strange beauty breaks above; Beneath, around me, everything Grows lovely with Thy love! Page-93

Intimations   Strange songs from far beyond the waters  Come drifting here to our shore; New melodies, entranced with pureness, Woven of moon-worlds' secret lore.   The earth lies silent, drunk with dreamings,  Enrapt within the veils of sound; The magic of moon-chantings luring Its spirit to the far Profound. Page-7

The Hill   At the brink of the abyss Where our limp desires fall, There is nothing more to miss, And nothing to recall.   There is only one more hill To climb, ere all be done, Ere the beauteous Will fulfil Itself in everyone.   But O Love, against the cheat Of this soulless space and time, Be the swift strength of our feet, And the very hill we climb. Page-67

Who were you?   What did you mean, O God, to me, You whom the world's great scriptures quote? — One sitting in lone majesty, So agonisingly remote,   Not all my longing ever could reach Or touch you; nor heart's deepest cry, Nor any power of thought or speech Pierce through those cold walls of your sky.   You might as well have been a Mask; "Existence pure" or "Peace", maybe — What do with these? I could but ask Your wrath to blast my blasphemy.   But no; instead you left your throne, As though you'd seen my anguished eyes, And how senseless all my days had grown; You rose at last and smashed your skies...   A

Charity   Inert and senseless flow on Sin's years, dark as they came; And the promptings of Your spirit Are wasted in my shame.   The reasons and the madness That You would meet and dole, The potencies and prayers, Are bargains of the soul.   Nor question, cry or cunning, Could now avail my pain; Would a myriad million Ganges Now wash me clean again?   When marketings are over, Your charities unfold, And touch the bowls of beggars, And fill them with Your gold. Page-130