On thy Lotus-seat of Night,—

Meditation closing thy eyes,—

The Star Hosts thy awe-struck devotees:

The Moon, thy halo unchanging.

White-robed time telling his beads

Of aeons on the thread of Eternity

By the ocean of space

Slumbering in peace at thy feet;

While Destiny stringing the lyre of death

Sings Nirvana's hymn.

[62]

[62]

54

Ask me not to stand at thy friendship's gate—

I, who loved thee, now must like a cold spectre from a far forgotten land of snow

Watch thee fall asleep on the couch of freezing friendship?

In these arms thou sought and joyed on many delights

Excavated the ruins of passion to build them anew,

Or sailed on thy wings—these arms—over love's enchanted sea.

Friendship!

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