The Burning-Ghats were smoking, and the jewels melted down,
The Temples lay deserted, for the people left the town.
Yet I was more than happy, though passing strange it seems,
For I spent my nights with Krishna, who loved me--in my dreams!


"Surface Rights"


Drifting, drifting down the River,
Tawny current and foam-flecked tide,
Sorrowful songs of lonely boatmen,
Mournful forests on either side.

Thine are the outcrops' glittering blocks,
The quartz where the rich pyrites gleam,
The golden treasure of unhewn rocks
And the loose gold in the stream.

But,--the dim vast forests along the shore,
That whisper wonderful things o' nights,--
These are things that I value more,
My beautiful "surface rights."

Drifting, drifting down the River,--
Stars a-tremble about the sky--
Ah, my lover, my heart is breaking,
Breaking, breaking, I know not why.