And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!

She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled.

The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,

Followed as fast as a horse could fly,

He came and the palace was black at his feet;

And the dove—the dove—the homing dove,

Circled alone in the stainless sky.

So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower—

Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;

So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,

And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.

Dove—dove—oh, homing dove,

Dacca is lost from the roll of the kings!

[207]

[207]

VII

THE SMOKE UPON YOUR ALTAR DIES

(To whom it may concern.)

The smoke upon your Altar dies,

T

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