Short Poems

How often hope's fair flower blooms richest where
The soul was fertilized with black despair.

You'll conquer the present
suspiciously fast
if you smell of the future
-and stink of the past.

For all your days prepare,
And meet them ever alike:
When you are the anvil, bear—
When you are the hammer, strike.

LAST night I dreamed
No dream of joy or sorrow,
Yet, when I woke, I wept,
Knowing the brightness of some far to-morrow
Had darkened while I slept!

by God, I don't know what to

O Lord who is there besides You who will hear my cry?

Strange is my petition: a poor man, I, I seek to become a king…

From time immemorial I have suffered the tortures of hell and have lived through many low births, but I crave not for wealth or even salvation though I know that You can confer all these.

What I desire is to become in every birth a toy for You to play with or a stone to touch Your Feet.

My love, I love your breasts, I love your nose.
I love your accent and I love your toes.
I am your slave. One word, and I obey.
But please don't slurp your morning brew that way.

Expecting Him, my door was open wide:
Then I looked round
If any lack of service might be found,
And saw Him at my side:
How entered, by what secret stair,
I know not, knowing only He was there.

प्रभु रच्छहु दयाल महरानी ।
बहु दिन जिए प्रजा-सुखदानी ।
हे प्रभु रच्छहु श्री महरानी ।
सब दिसि में तिनकी जय होई ।
रहै प्रसन्न सकल भय खोई ।
राज करै बहु दिन लौं सोई ।
हे प्रभु रच्छहु श्री महरानी ।

170

Portraits are to daily faces
As an Evening West,
To a fine, pedantic sunshine—
In a satin Vest!