Manmohan Ghose.

[22]

[22]

PSYCHE

he is not fair, as some are fair,

Cold as the snow, as sunshine gay: 

On her clear brow, come grief what may,

She suffers not too stern an air;

But, grave in silence, sweet in speech,

Loves neither mockery nor disdain;

Gentle to all, to all doth teach

The charm of deeming nothing vain.

She join'd me: and we wander'd on;

And I rejoiced, I cared not why,

Deeming it immortality

To walk with such a soul alone.

Primroses pale grew all around,

Violets, and moss, and ivy wild;

Yet, drinking sweetness from the ground,

I was but conscious that she smiled.

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