Thoughts as they came . g. Tee! Pagoda! All reflected! Scintillating lights projected! Changed by Night-Queens rays to splendor! Mid-air bells in pleadings tender— Tinkle! Tinkle! Come ye all! Tinkle! Come! Tis Buddhas call! Fair Shwe Dagon ! Thus we left jouWith an Eastern moon above the Irrawaddys waters;Where old Burmas silk-gowned the spare-built, turbaned what Buddha taught for Truth. [157] THOUGHTS AS THEY CAME Tinkle! Tinkle! Come ye all!Tinkle! Come! Tis Buddhas call!Come with flower, or flowery wreath!Sacred hairs, enshrined beneath—Call for offering
Thoughts as they came . g. Tee! Pagoda! All reflected! Scintillating lights projected! Changed by Night-Queens rays to splendor! Mid-air bells in pleadings tender— Tinkle! Tinkle! Come ye all! Tinkle! Come! Tis Buddhas call! Fair Shwe Dagon ! Thus we left jouWith an Eastern moon above the Irrawaddys waters;Where old Burmas silk-gowned the spare-built, turbaned what Buddha taught for Truth. [157] THOUGHTS AS THEY CAME Tinkle! Tinkle! Come ye all!Tinkle! Come! Tis Buddhas call!Come with flower, or flowery wreath!Sacred hairs, enshrined beneath—Call for offerings, great or small,Buddhas Peace responds to all. A SYMPHONY IN MARBLE A bijou! a bower! a white Jasmine Tower!While beyond rests the Pearl— Taj Mahal!This—the Home, the Zenana, the Earthly NirvanaOf its Queen, The beneath rolls the river, where late moonbeams in glory they wrap Taj Mahal;There the Echoes ascending—like symphonies always the theme, Taj Mahal. [158]. Each note softly dyimj — like jar-azcay sighing-Heart-sighs for Mil m ta z-i-Ma/ial ON THE IRRAWADDY Each note softly d} Ing—like far-away sighing—Heart-sighs for Mumtaz-i-Mahal. Have Peace, gentle Sleeper! Loves angel thy keeper-The spirit that guards Taj gem of devotion to Loves pure emotion!This fairest of Tombs— Taj wrought lamentation! A mute adoration !Chaste, Exquisite Shrine, Taj Mahal!A love-song in marble! A sculptured bird-warble!A Paradise dream — Taj Mahal! ON THE IRRAWADDY Oh, for a broader sense, and wealth of wordsTo fitly tell of colorings daily blent! They speak not of this Earth — but far-off worlds!These glorious sunsets of the Orient. [159 J THOUGHTS AS THEY CAME At first we think it gold—as King of DaySteps off, and down beyond that mystic line, Spreading his trail in such a regal way, Oer all that Western slope its folds recline. We think it gold! Anon it turns to rose! A rose of which we dream, nor ever k
Size: 1374px × 1818px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookidthoughtsastheyca00dave
