The Indian To His Love
HE island dreams under the
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
HE island dreams under the
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
I
I arise from dreams of
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
IN tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee,
Behold her, daughter of a wandering race,
Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace,
And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty
KE a serpent to the calling voice of flutes,
Glides my heart into thy fingers,
O my Love
Where the night-wind, like a lover, leans above His jasmine-gardens and sirisha-bowers;
bone density
the branch crumbles
after the forest fire
Плотность кости