To Paradise's Room.

Under the Indian stars,

With palm and peepul about me,

With dome and kiosk and minaret

Mounting against the sky,

I seem to see your face

In all the fairness without me;

[Pg 33]

In all the sadness that fills my heart

To hear your lover's cry.

Under the Indian stars

I look for your Jasmine Tower,

Along the River whose barren bed

Lies gray beneath the moon.

And thro its magic doors

You seem like a spirit flower,

Wandering back from Allah's bourne

To seek for some lost boon.

Under the Indian stars

I see you softly moving,

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