<i>I.–The Hindu Ascetic.</i>
Here as I sit by the Jumna bank,
Watching the flow of the sacred stream,
Pass me the legions, rank on rank,
And the cannon roar, and the bayonets gleam.
Is it a god or a king that comes?
Both are evil, and both are strong;
With women and worshipping, dancing and drums,
Carry your gods and your kings along.
Fanciful shapes of a plastic earth,
These are the visions that weary the eye;
These I may ‘scape by a luckier birth,
Musing, and fasting, and hoping to die.
When shall these phantoums flicker away?
Like the smoke of the guns on the wind-swept hill,
Like the sounds and colours of yesterday:
And the soul have rest, and the air be still.
<i>II.–Badminton.</i>
Hardly a shot from the gate we stormed,
Under the Moree battlement’s shade;
Close to the glacis our game was formed,
There had the fight been, and there we played.
Lightly the demoiselles tittered and leapt,
Merrily capered the players all;
North, was the garden where Nicholson slept,
South, was the sweep of a battered wall.
Near me a Musalm
(Alfred Comyn Lyall)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, Soul Poems, Kings & Queens Poems, Garden Poems, Birth Poems, Dancing Poems, Good & Evil Poems, Worship Poems, Hinduism PoemsBased on Keywords: luckier, capered, tittered, nicholson, jumna, glacis, demoiselles, badminton