Short Poems

Birds of spring,
Don't sing, please don't sing!
A blaze of red
In the grass outside my window,
The sun sets this evening.

Here, Richard, didst thou fall, caparisoned
With kingdoms of thy lust;
And here wouldst lie, by Fame's bent gleaners shunned,
But came unto thy dust
A swaggerer, perdy!
Who cried “A horse, a horse!” and straight
Thou wert abroad again on kingly feet
To tread eternity.

Govind is my life; the world tastes bitter to me.
I love Rama and Rama alone; let my eyes see no other.
In Miran's palace dwell Hari's saints; Hari dwells far from intrigue with his saints.

After our joy is finished, sorrow comes
To meet us, and, that meeting o'er,
She tarries not. What then is joy? What grief?
For both alike are Ignorance, beyond which
Pass we.
Mukta Bai calls, “Awaken, Changa”:
And, at her call, the Essential Self
Hears and awakes within him.

Home have I left, for I have left my world!
Child have I left, and all my cherished herds!
Lust have I left, and Ill-will, too, is gone,
And Ignorance have I put far from me;
Craving and root of Craving overpowered,
Cool am I now, knowing Nibbana's peace.

Fair and frail as the lily the shepherd folk in the mountains
Bruise under foot, as they pass, and it purples the ground with its flowers.

They breathe the feeling of thy happy soul,
Intricate Spring! too active for a word;
They come from regions distant as the pole;
Thou art their magnet,—seedsman of the bird.

Whether your shell hits the target or not,
Your cost is Five Hundred Dollars a Shot.
You thing of noise and flame and power,
We feed you a hundred barrels of flour
Each time you roar. Your flame is fed
With twenty thousand loaves of bread.
Silence! A million hungry men
Seek bread to fill their mouths again.

Skill'd thro' the Page to pour the liquid Line,
Or fill the nervous Verse with just Design;
With govern'd Force, and animated Art,
To form the Mind, and regulate the Heart,
At length appear those Honours to receive
Which Learning, Taste, and Piety must give!
On ev'ry Theme we see your Muse succeed,
And own each Prize judiciously decreed.

Lamp, what hast thou done with the flame?
Skeleton, what hast thou done with the soul?
Deserted cage, what hast thou done with the bird?
Volcano, what hast thou done with the lava?
Slave, what hast thou done with thy master?