Ryder
https://shreevatsa.net/ryder/verses/verses.html
From _Women's Eyes_ (1910), _Relatives_ (1919), and _Original Poems_ (1939).
The maid my true heart loves would not my true love be; She seeks another man; another maid loves he; And me another maid her own true love would see: Oh, fie on her and him and Love and HER and me!
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WOMEN'S EYES The world is full of women's eyes, Defiant, filled with shy surprise, Demure, a little overfree, Or simply sparkling roguishly; It seems a gorgeous lily-bed, Whichever way I turn my head.
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IF ONLY WE MIGHT DRESS IN AIR If only we might dress in air,   And eat what begging brings, And sleep outdoors, we should not care   For all the money-kings.
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LOVE IS YOUNG The wrinkles on my face are all untold;   My hair is gray and thin; My limbs are sadly feeble grown, and old:   But love is young, and sin.
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LOVE GROWS BY WHAT IT FEEDS ON When she is far, I only want to see her;   When she is seen, I only want to kiss her; When she is kissed, I never want to flee her;   I know that I could never bear to miss her.
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GENTLE EYES Candle, and fire, and star,   Sun, moon, to give me light; But her dear, gentle eyes are far—   This world is night.
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  THE STUBBORN FOOL-I   A diamond you may draw   From an alligator's jaw; You may cross the raging ocean like a pool;   A cobra you may wear   Like a blossom in your hair; But you never can convince a stubborn fool.
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  THE STUBBORN FOOL-II   With sufficient toil and travail   You may gather oil from gravel; The mirage perhaps your thirsty lips may cool;   If you seek it night and morn,   You may find a rabbit's horn; But you never can convince a stubborn fool.
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SEVEN ARROWS Seven arrows pierce my heart: The moonbeams that by day depart; The maid whose youthful beauty flies; The pool wherein the lotus dies; The handsome man whose lips are dumb The rich man, miserly and glum; The good man sunk in suffering; The rogue in favor with the king.
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SUBSTITUTES What need of armor to the patient soul? What need of foes, if temper spurns control? If rogues are near, what need of snakes to harm you? If relatives, what need of fire to warm you? If friends, what need of magic draughts for health? If blameless scholarship, what need of wealth? If modesty, what need of gems and flowers? If poetry, what need of kingly powers?
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SWEET AND BITTER Sweet are the moonbeams, sweet the grass-grown wood, Sweet is the peaceful converse of the good, The poet's song is sweet, the maiden's face When angry tear-drops lend a sudden grace: All would be sweet if human fate were fitter; The thought of death turns all the sweet to bitter.
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WHEN I KNEW A LITTLE BIT When I knew a little bit, Then my silly, blinded wit, Mad as elephants in rut, Thought it was omniscient; but When I learned a little more From the scholar's hoarded store, Madness' fever soon grew cool, And I knew I was a fool.
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WHOM DOES SHE LOVE? With one she gossips full of art; Her glances with a second flirt; She holds another in her heart: Whom does she love enough to hurt?
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BETTER TO DWELL IN MOUNTAINS WILD Better to dwell in mountains wild   With beasts of prey Than in the palaces of gods   With fools to stay.
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THE APRIL WIND The wind of April is a lover bold: He makes the women shiver hot and cold; He shuts their eyes, he rumples up their hair, And catches rudely at the gowns they wear; Time after time he presses pretty lips From which a cry indignant-joyful slips.
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MY FOLLY'S DONE Why should that girl still use her keen, Coquettish eyes that steal the sheen From lotus-flowers. What can she mean? My folly's done. The fever-sting Of love's soft arrow does not cling; And yet she doesn't stop, poor thing!
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REMEDIES A fire with water we defeat, With parasols the midday heat, Mad elephants with goads that prick, Oxen and asses with a stick, Sickness with draughts that banish harm, Poison with many a spell and charm, Science has cures for every ill Except the fool; be prospers still.
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THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE GOOD You are a teacher of the youth Who master philosophic truth; I seek in the poetic art What charms and ravishes the heart. Yet we are honest and we see The only good is charity; And nothing charms us, fools or wise, Except a maid with lotus-eyes.
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THE POWER OF MONEY His powers are still the same, his actions too, His mind is quite as keen, his speech as true; Yet he has undergone a wondrous change— He lost his money. Do you think it strange?
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DESIRE IS YOUNG Not time, but we, have passed away; Not virtue, we ourselves grow cold; Not joys, but we, no longer stay: Desire is young, but we are old.
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THOU ART A FLOWER Thou art a flower whose fragrance none has tasted,   A gem uncut by workman's tool, A branch no desecrating hands have wasted,   A virgin forest, sweetly cool. No man on earth deserves to taste thy beauty,   Thy blameless loveliness and worth, Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty— And is there such a one on earth?
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THE DIVINE DECREE Thy wise creator wrote upon thy brow,   When thou wast born, what wealth should once be thine; The sum was great perhaps, or small; yet now   Thy fate is fixed, and sure the law divine. For if thou dwell within the desert's bound,   Thou shalt have nothing less than his decree; Nor shall a single penny more be found,   Although the golden mount thy dwelling be. Ah, then be brave and play the manly part, Nor be so fond to humble thy proud heart And fawn before the rich with cringing art. For see! A jar that in the ocean fell Holds no more water in its little shell Than when you lowered it in the meanest well.
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TWO KINGS Flee from the palace where they say: The king is sleeping; go away- He has no time for you today- Or-he will see you if you stay- He will be angry anyway. Flee to another, greater king, My soul, who rules each mortal thing, Whose palace knows no bolt, no ring, No porter's harsh, sarcastic fling, No pain, no human suffering.
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ABSENCE AND UNION Absence is union dear, When hearts are one; Union is absence drear. When love is done. PERFECT LOVE Then only is a perfect love,   When hearts harmonious wed; Love void of harmony must prove   A union of the dead.
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THE SERPENT-WOMAN Avoid the poison-glance, my friends;   The serpent-woman flee; Her crooked path has crooked ends;   Her hood is coquetry. If you are stung by common snakes,   Perhaps you will not die; If poison from a woman takes,   The doctors say good-bye.
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CAN SHE BE DEAR? The thought of her is saddening,   The sight of her is fear, The touch of her is maddening—   Can she be really dear?
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THE DECLINE OF TRUE LEARNING Once, learning slew the living woe Of wise men. That was long ago. She then disdained such service rare, Became a practical affair. But nowadays she sees that kings Despise all intellectual things, And sinking lower day by day, She seems to vanish quite away.
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THE LAST DAY When the celestial mount shall totter, burning   In all-devouring flame, When seas go dry, where crocodiles are turning   And sharks no man may tame, When the compact earth itself shall tumble sheer,   Great mountains madly dance, What of our bodies, quivering like the ear   Of baby elephants?
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THE ANGER OF THE KING None from the anger of the king   May be released; The fire consumes the offering   And burns the priest.
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THE RAINS And when the rainy days are come, Your lady-love must stay at home; She clings to you, a little bold Because she shivers with the cold; The breeze is fresh with heaven's spray And drives her lassitude away: When happy lovers are together, The rainy time is fairest weather.
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THE LOVERS' ALLY Ye maids, exhaust your haughty scorn   On lovers bending low; For soon the breeze in southland born, With sandal sweet, will blow.
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WHY? The deer, the fish, the good man hunger   For grass, for water, for content; Yet hunter, fisher, scandalmonger   Pursue each harmless innocent.
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ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE Child for an hour, and lovesick youth an hour,   Beggar an hour, then fanned by riches' breath, The wrinkled actor, Man, bereft of power,   Creeps tottering behind the curtain, Death.
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THE WAY OF THE WORLD In daily journeys of the sun Our little life is quickly done; In anxious duties of the day The hours unnoticed slip away; Though birth and age are ever near, And grief and death, we do not fear: The world forgets its sore distress, Goes mad with wine of heedlessness.
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TWO VIEWS OF LIFE When ignorance my life entwined, Love's ointment made me strangely blind- I thought the world was made of womankind. But clearer judgment than, of yore The veil before my vision tore- I knew that God is all the world and more.
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WHAT THEN?-I What if my life is fed   With all that seems most sweet? What if my foeman's head   Is ground beneath my feet? What if my wealth makes friends   Again and yet again? What if my soul ascends   Through countless lives? What then?
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WHAT THEN?-II Old rags, or fine, white silk that flows and clings-   Why should I care? Poor wife, or horses, elephants, and things-   What difference there? Sweet rice, or wretched food when day is o'er-   Why care again? God's light, or groping in the dark once more-   What then? What then?
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THE QUEEN OF LOVE Surely the love-god is the slave   Of her sweet eyes; For when they give a hint, the knave   Obedient flies.
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JOYOUS TREASURES How hard a thing it is that they achieve   Whose hearts the thought of God keeps pure and bright, Who for His sake earth's joyous treasures leave   Without a pang at losing such delight! Those joyous treasures I could never get;   I cannot get them now; I am not sure That I shall ever win to them; and yet   I cannot flout the thought, the hope, the lure.
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VEXATIONS-II The fear of dying vexes birth;   Age vexes flashing youth ; The carper vexes honest worth;   Irresolution, truth. To vex our peace the women love;   Our joy, ambition's sting; Rogues vex the court, and snakes the grove;   And something, everything.
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LOVE, THE FISHER Love, the fisher, casts his woman-hook   Into the sea of lust and fond desire, And just as soon as greedy men-fish look   And snap the red bait, lips so sweet, so dire, Then he is quick to catch them and to cook   The hungry wretches over passion's fire.
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EPHEMERAL POTIONS If mouths are dry with thirst, Men think of water first; If hungry, bolt their rice With many a toothsome spice; If love flames bright and brighter, They clasp the women tighter: They have the strangest notions; They think ephemeral potions Will heal the soul's commotions.
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ALL THESE THINGS SHALL BE ADDED What though she have a bosom sweet,   A form to beauty wed, A face in which the graces meet-   She must not turn your head. Nay, if her charm your fancy haunts,   Then live on virtue's food; One cannot have the things he wants   Except by being good.
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THE BLIND FOREST The lady's body is a forest blind,   With dangerous hills, her bosom fair; Think not to wander there, my mind;   The robber, Love, is lurking there.
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THE LITTLENESS OF THE WORLD Why should the truly wise man wish   To hold the world in fee? 'Tis but the leaping of a baby fish   Upon the boundless sea.
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FRIENDSHIP'S END Yes, you were I, and I was you, So fond the love that linked us two; Alas, my friend, for friendship's end! Now I am I, and you are you.
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A WASTED LIFE-I No stainless wisdom have I learned; No honest money have I earned; No fond obedience have I brought To parents, with a heart well-taught; I never dreamed of sweet embraces, Of sparkling eyes and roguish faces: My life was wasted like the crow's: I lived on strangers' bread and blows.
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A WASTED LIFE-II I never learned to vanquish other men   In conference, with the just and fitting word; I never made high heaven ring again,   Praising the elephant-hunter's sturdy sword; I never tasted honey from the kind,   Soft lips of maids when moonlight scatters gloom: My youth is gone and left no good behind,   A candle burning in an empty room.
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A WASTED LIFE-III The paths of thought I never trod Which lead to unity in God; Nor were my days to virtue given Which opens wide the gates of heaven; Delights of love that men esteem Were mine not even in a dream: I was a sorry axe in sooth To cut the tree, my mother's youth.
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FLAMING BANNERS Learning and dignity,   Wisdom and manners Last till the god of love   Plants flaming banners.
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TWO KINDS OF FRIENDSHIP The friendship of the rogue or saint,   Like shade at dawn or shade at noon, Starts large and slowly grows more faint,   Or starting faint, grows larger soon.
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CHOOSING A VOCATION What shall I do in these few hours of life? Live humbly with a sweet, religious wife? Renounce the world, the ties of kindred sever, And spend my days beside the sacred river? Drink deep of honeyed poems' nectar-flow? Or learn philosophy? I hardly know.
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THE GOOD ARE RARE Through thoughts and words and deeds their virtues flow   To all the world their kindness brings delight; They make a mote of good in others show   Like a great mountain; for their hearts are bright, And brighten all they touch with their own worth: How many such are to be found on earth?
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THERE WAS A NOBLE CITY There was a noble city old, A mighty king, and vassals bold; And there were gathered scholars true, And moon-faced ladies not a few; And there were princes proud and free, And stories told, and minstrelsy: A memory now; we mourn their fall And honor Time, who levels all.
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WHERE EDUCATION FAILS Though many youths a training get In law, religion, etiquette, Why are there few whose actions would, Interpreted, seem wholly good? Some arching brow is sure to be As cunning as a master-key, That serves its purpose passing well In flinging wide the gates of hell.
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OH, MIGHT I END THE QUEST! I dug beneath the earth most greedily   In search of hidden treasure; I smelted ore; I crossed the mighty sea,   Forgetting every pleasure; I cringed to kings; and muddling all my brains   With magic, lost my rest: But never got a penny for my pains;   Oh, might I end the quest!
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WHAT DELIGHTS AND HURTS It is the truth sans prejudice I speak;   Ye people, heed this truth forever true; All that delights in women you must seek,   And all that hurts, you find in women too.
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THE SWEETEST THINGS The sweetest sight a man may see   Is a maiden's loving face; The sweetest thing to touch should be   Her body's close embrace; Her voice should be the sweetest sound;   Her breath, the sweetest scent; The sweetest taste, the honey found   On lips to kisses lent; The thought of her is fervent prayer,   Religion's sweetest part; The charm of her is everywhere   Unto the pure in heart.
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THE UNLUCKY MAN A bald man once, whose hairless pate Felt inconveniently hot, Fled to a cocoa-tree at noon- He hoped to find a shady spot. And then a big nut fell, and crack! The poor, hald head was split in two. Misfortunes almost always find The man whom evil fates pursue.
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A REASON FOR RENUNCIATION Possessions leave us at the end,   However long they stay; Then why not cast aside, my friend,   What leaves us anyway? And if they leave against our will,   The heart takes time in mending; If given willingly, they fill   That heart with joy unending.
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RENUNCIATION What does renunciation mean? It means a lonely woodland scene Remote from men and human sin, From woes of love, from love of kin, Free from the world, a life apart That slays the tortures of the heart As fear of death and fear of birth: It means the best of heaven and earth.
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THE BETTER PART Is there no splendid Himalayan height   Cooled by the spray from Ganges' holy springs, With rocks where fairies now and then alight,   That men should fawn upon contemptuous kings?
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THE FIVE ROBBERS "Here are banquets, and singing sweet, Perfumes, and glimpse of dancing feet, And bosoms that on mine may bear." Five rascal senses whisper this, Lead me from virtue much amiss, And cheat me of my highest bliss.
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WHEN WOMAN WILLS When loving woman wants her way. God hesitates to say her nay.
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A LITTLE KNOWLEDGE A fool's opinion easily is bent;   More easy 'tis to win the wise and great; But God himself could never make content   The man who feels himself elate   With one small grain of knowledge in his pate.
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THE WEAKER SEX The classic poets make a great mistake;   Forever of the weaker sex they speak; When gods are subjugated for the sake   Of starry glances, are the women weak?
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YOUNG WOMANHOOD Half-smiles that brighten on her face,   Innocent, roving glances, The wealth of budding charms that show   In little steps and dances, The flow of words that shyly prove   The sweet, new woman-feeling: Yes, all the fawn-eyed maiden does   Is wondrously appealing.
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THE BRAVEST OF THE BRAVE A few brave men pursue   Rogue elephants to death; There are a braver few   Who stop the lion's breath; The bravest of the brave-   And fewer yet they prove- Are they who can enslave   The haughty god of love.
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DIGNITY The dog will roll, and wag his tail, and fawn, Show mouth and belly, just to get some meat; The majestic elephant gazes gravely on; Till coaxed a hundred times, he will not eat.
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IN THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH While life is vigorous and bright,   While sickness comes not, nor decay, While all your powers are at their height,   While yet old age is far away, Then, wise man, let your thoughts be turning   To heaven's hopes and fears of hell; For when the house is fired and burning,   It is too late to dig a well.
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THEY WANT THE EARTH 'Tis but a little ball of mud   With a streak of water round; Yet kings for it will shed their blood,   As for a treasure found. They cannot, will not leave the thing,   So poor are they, so mean; And men will fawn on such a king!   Oh, shame upon the scene!
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THE BEASTS THAT DON'T EAT GRASS Unschooled in music, poetry, and art,     Man is a beast, a hornless, tailless beast;   He doesn't eat the grass; for this at least The other beasts may well be glad at heart.
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WHY MEN BEG Is there a man of spirit who would beg   In broken words that stumble with his sobbing, Harsh sobs of him who fears a surly "No!"   And all to ease his belly's empty throbbing? None but the man who sees his wretched wife   Sad always, sees her worn and ragged skins, Sees sad-faced babies tugging at their folds   With screams that tell how fiercely hunger hurts.
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THE WISE MISOGYNIST The wise misogynist, poor soul, To self-deceit is given; For heaven rewards his self-conrrol, And women swarm in heaven.
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NECTAR AND POISON All nectar and all poison lives   In woman's changing states; For she is nectar when she loves,   And poison when she hates.
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THE ONE THING NEEDFUL Why should I study scripture, sacred lore, Or any good, big book? Why get a store Of pious actions, anxiously performed— And win a humble tent in heaven, no more? The knowledge of myself is all I need To give me lasting joy, to burn the seed   Of the interminable pain of life— Let pious peddlers show their wares and plead.
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THE TWO THINGS THAT MATTER Why all this talk and foolish chatter? There are just two things that really matter: A buxom, young, and frisky wife; Or else a lonely forest-life.
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UNINTELLIGIBLE VIRTUE Are palace-joys so incomplete?   Is song a despicable pleasure? And is there anything so sweet   As clasping her you love and treasure? Yet pious men account these things As vain as flickering candlelight 'Neath dancing moths on troubled wings; And to the woods they take their flight.
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THE LINES OF FATE If thorn-plants in the desert leafless be,   The spring is not to blame. If owls in broadest daylight cannot see,   The sun should feel no shame. If in the plover's bill no raindrops fall,   'Twere wrong to blame the cloud. The lines that fate has written once for all,   Are never disallowed.
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POVERTY The moon by night, the sun by day Continue in their heavenly way; One rag they have, one ragged cloud To serve them both as robe and shroud. Poor things!
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HOW HARD FATE GRIPS The snake and elephant are caged; The moon and sun must meet eclipse; The prudent are in strife engaged With poverty. How hard fate grips!
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THE HERMIT I seem to see a hermit good: He has no pride, he begs his food; From man-made laws his acts are free; He seeks no man's society; He has no care for common ways Of giving, getting all his days; He stitches up his garment ragged With wayside tatters, torn and jagged; No false conceit his fancy haunts— Eternal peace is all he wants.
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WHY GO TO COURT? I am not fashion's changing sport, I never acted, sang, nor hated; What figure should I cut at court? I am no lady languid-gaited.
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IMPOSSIBLE! The consecrated saints of old   Who lived on water, leaves, and air, Went mad with love when they beheld   A face that showed how maids are fair. And if the common men who eat   Their rice and milk and curds and ghee, Should curb the wish for things so sweet,   The mountains would fly oversea.
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HINDRANCES 'Twould not be hard, through life's gray sea   To find the track; But fawn-eyed women hinder me,   And hold me back.
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WHY MY POEMS DIED The critics all were jealous, The patrons full of pride, The public had no judgment; And so my poems died.
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From _Relatives_ (1919) https://archive.org/details/relativesbeing00ryderich
HEEDLESSNESS Old age, an awful tigress, growls: And shafts of sickness pierce the bowels; Life's water trickles from its jar— 'Tis strange how thoughtless people are.
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OLD AGE Gone long ago are they who gave us birth; Old friends are memories upon this earth; Our lives are undermined and daily sink, Like trees upon the river's sandy brink.
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THE CHESS-GAME Where there were scattered pieces on the board,   There now is one; Next, many slaughtered pieces are restored,   Then all are gone: The dice are day and night; the board is life;   Time and again Death plays a fearful chess-game with his wife—   The pawns are men.
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THE FORTUNATE FOOL God to the fool a way has shown, A way unfailing, all his own,   To hide his lack of sense; For each, however great a fool, Among the wise may wear the jewel   Called Silence.
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FORESIGHT From loving girls, ye wise, refrain; 'Tis little pleasure, longer pain. But love three females none the less, Compassion, Wisdom, Friendliness. For swelling breasts of lovely girls, Trembling beneath their strings of pearls, And hips with jingling girdles—well, They do not help you much in hell.
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A PRAYER O father wind, friend light, and earth my mother! O kinsman water, heaven's space my brother! I bow, I pray: with you in union blest May I be good, in brightest wisdom smother The dark, and sink at last in God to rest.
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ONE FATE OF TWO One fate of two for the jasmine flower, The same for the wise and good; To shine at the head of all the world, Or to wither in the wood.
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WIPE OUT DELUSION Wipe out delusion, O my soul!   Seek peace in Shiva ever; Dwell on the banks whereunder roll   Floods of the sacred river; Who trusts in waves that break and crash,   In bonfires' flaming flakes, In bubble or in lightning-flash,   In women, streams, or snakes?
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LIFE Here is the sound of lutes, and there are screams and wailing; Here winsome girls, there bodies old and failing; Here scholars' talk, there drunkards' mad commotion— Is life a nectared or a poisoned potion?
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HOW LONG, O LORD? Alone, without desire, at rest, In atmosphere of heaven drest, My hand for spoon, when shall I be, O Shiva, God! from <i>karma</i> free?
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A JOY FOREVER The poet-kings who know the art To touch the chord that moves the heart,   Secure may draw their breath; Far from the body of their fame apart   Lurk fears of age and death.
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FATALISM What shall not be, will never be;   What shall be, will be so: This tonic slays anxiety;   Taste it, and end your woe.     — From the _Hitopadesha_
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EXTRAVAGANCE They cook their grain in beryl kettles   With fuel of sandal-shoots, They plough with ploughs of precious metals   To get the yercum-roots, They make a hedge of camphor wood   About the humblest corn, Unhappy fools! who are not good   On earth where they were born.
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PREACHING He longs, with twigs from lotus-bowers   To bind an elephant, He strives, with softest siris-flowers   To sever adamant, He yearns, with honey-drops alone   To sweeten ocean's taint, Who hopes, with sugar-coated tone   To make a rogue a saint.
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HEAVEN ABOVE AND HEAVEN BELOW Oh, dwell by Ganges' holy wave Where passion's slave his soul may lave; Or on the bosom of a girl Where strings of pearl would charm a churl.
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ENTER INTO THY CLOSET Although thou sink to hell, fly through the air,   Or flutter o'er the earth and never cease, Think not, my soul, to find salvation there:   Remember God at home, who gives thee peace.
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PEACE I would not call a friend or foe mine own, A gem or clod, a bed of flowers or stone, A serpent or a string of precious pearls, A bunch of grasses or a bunch of girls, So might I see with calm, unwavering eye My peaceful days move softly gliding by, The while I murmured in a pious grove To Shiva, Shiva, Shiva, all my love.
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I LOVE THE WOODS Girl, girl! What mean those tender glances Like budding flowers in languid dances? Stop, stop! Your art no more entrances. I love the woods. My childish madness Awakens memories of sadness. The world? A straw brings equal gladness.
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CAUSE AND EFFECT As knowledge in the just Increases self-distrust; In others, pride and lust— Just so, the saint will find When lonely, peace of mind; Not so the lovesick kind.
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NATURAL BEAUTY The color on the lily's face Is natural. So is maiden grace. The bee flits vainly round the flower, The fool round beauty's virgin power.
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WOMAN'S WEAPONS The skillfully coquettish frown, Bashfulness choking laughter down, The love-word seeming free from guile, The undulating step, the smile— These things to every woman true, Are ornaments, and weapons too.
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THE FAILURE OF EDUCATION Uneducated moths will fly   Into the blazing fire; Ignorant fish will take the hook   In the bait of their desire. And we who know so many things   Forget the price, and feed The creeping lusts that coil us round—   Oh! We are fools indeed.
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WHY MEN FIGHT Perhaps the warrior, smitten by his foe, Will rise to heaven and leave the world below;   Perhaps the fighting is its own reward; No god has told us and we do not know. We only know that the applauding beat Of eager hands, the joyous shouts that greet   The sturdy fighter from his foes and friends, Are music in his ears, and very sweet.
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AFTER LIFE'S FITFUL FEVER My mind no longer loves philosophy No longer seeks delight in poetry, Contemns the paths of doubt so often trod, And yearns to be united with its God.
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THE INTELLIGENT CORPSE A beggar in the graveyard cried: "Awake, my friend, be satisfied To live again and bear the weight Of poverty; for I of late Am weary grown; my heart is led To crave the comfort of the dead." The corpse was silent; he was sure 'Twas better to be dead than poor.   — From Bhartṛhari
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Posthumously published (1939)
BEASTS Men void of learning, character, and worth,   Religion, kindness, wisdom, piety, Are but a mortal burden on the earth;   Such men are beasts allowed to wander free.
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A CONSOLATION If there are famous poets, fit   To teach the art of poesy, So sweetly smooth their verses flit,   And if they live in poverty— That shows the dullness of the king;   Poets, though poor, are rich in fame. Where gems find undervaluing,   Only the jeweler is to blame.
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All men alike, birth after birth, Enter upon a life on earth;   But he is born indeed, whose house Gains glory from his sterling worth.
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The rich man is of noble birth, Has learning, sense, and sterling worth; Is eloquent, and beauty's mould— For every virtue clings to gold.
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ALL OR NOTHING Vishnu or Shiva—but one god I crave;   One friend—a lordly king or hermit good;   One home—a city or a lonely wood; One love—a beauty or a desert cave.
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  Although the strong man be disdained,   His purpose never bends: As when a lighted torch is held   Flame-down, the flame ascends.
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A noble soul, in days of power, Is tender as a lotus-flower: But when it meets misfortune's shock, Grows hard as Himalayan rock.
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THE FLATTERER By stammering and tumbling down You try to smooth the monarch's frown; In the farce of life you play the clown. What part, I wonder, will you play, When age has sucked your strength away, And when your ears are fringed with gray?
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  Hark to the counsel of the good,   Although irrelevant it looks; Their simple talk is richer food   And wiser than the best of books.
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WOMEN'S GLANCES What will not women's glances do, When man is moved by pity true To yield the heart that they pursue? They fascinate and gladden him, Bewilder, mock, and madden him, And at the end they sadden him.
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NOBILITY If fate should ever stay the birth   Of every lily on the earth, Do you suppose that swans would scratch.   Like roosters, in the dunghill patch?
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THE GOLDEN MOUNT Why did God make the Golden Mount, Fair riches' never-failing fount? It never wakens longing in Contented breasts that know not sin; It never satisfied the mind Of men with greedy passions blind; Its wealth is for itself, I see; It seems quite valueless to me.
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SORROWS OF SPRING When spring comes on the wanderer   From her he loveth far, With cooing songs of nightingales   And winds from Malabar, Though sweet the season, sweet the song,   His sorrows are so grim That even a cup of nectar seems   A poisoned cup to him.
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AN APRIL EVENING A little lazy loitering With her you love, in early spring, Is not a despicable thing— A little music in your ear From nightingales that warble near A smiling bower, is sweet to hear— A little converse with a few— Not many—first-rate poets who Enjoy the moonlight as do you— An April evening, taken so, Is not without delights to show— Believe me! to the few who know.
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  The pious scholar talks and talks   Of leaving girls alone; With tinkling girdle in She walks   And he must change his tone.
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YOUTH A bed of poison-flowers is youth, A cloud that hides the moon of truth, A linked chain of passions fell, Source of the hundred woes of hell, The dwelling-place of every badness, The friend of Love, the seed of madness.
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Graceful amid the forest shade Wandered a weary, weary maid; Alone, by moonbeams sore opprest, Lifting the garment from her breast.
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WOMAN Abode of wanton impudence, Sin's palace, field of false pretense, Whirlpool of doubts, and basket stored With tricks and mean deception's hoard, Bolt barring heaven's gate too well, Wide portal to the house of hell— Who made that strange contrivance, woman, That poison sweet, which keeps us human?
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THE FEAR OF DEATH The joy I felt in life is dead, And men's respect for me is fled: My dear-loved friends are all in heaven To whom my days were gladly given; I rise up slowly with a stick, And in my eyes the dark is thick: But the body still is obstinate; It feared Death soon, it fears him late.
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VAIN EFFORT The joys of home I have resigned,   But not for higher ends; To mercy I was not inclined   In treating foes as friends; Storm, heat, and cold I faced unbent,   But not to save my soul; My days in centered thought were spent,   My heart in stern control— Alas! I did not think of God,   But wealth, to win and guard; The paths the pious tread, I trod,   And fail of their reward.
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EVERYTHING OR NOTHING Suppose you have the sweetest song before you,   The graceful poets of the south beside you, Fan-girls behind who winsomely adore you   With tinkling rings; if nothing be denied you, Then you may well be most extremely greedy   To taste each charming, mortal delectation; But if you be in anything left needy,   Renounce it all and plunge in meditation.
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Since kings are peevish, and their lords   Like restive horses are, I fix my wish and set my mind   On a high place and far; Since age will snatch my body, and   There waits the final trial Of death for all, naught else is wise   And right but self-denial.
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  Is he a Brahman, or a slave,   Ourcaste, or saint forsooth? Or yet perchance a finished sage, Skilled in dividing truth? Such doubtful chatter meets him, while   The sage in contemplation Pursues his course, devoid alike   Of pleasure and vexation.
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THE BETTER PART-II Have mountains lost their running streams,   The hillside nooks their roots, The trees their bark-enveloped limbs   And all delicious fruits? Why else should man disgrace himself   Before a loveless brow That scowls in pride of scanty pelf,   With pain acquired but now?
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"Another night, another day"—   So thinks the foolish man, Runs to the same old job again   As briskly as he can. Frustrations that reiterate   How life is e'er the same, Still leave him keen for stale delights.   Mad, mad! Is there no shame?
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JOY SUPREME Forget society and clothes and food;   Seek thou that knowledge sure Which makes imperial power that men think good,   Insipid and impure. There is a higher joy, eternal, free—   Self-knowledge is its name— Whose taste makes universal sovereignty   And such-like joys seem tame.
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