Shakuntala
Found favour in her father’s sight.
(He looks about.)
Ah, I have come into the open air.
(He leaves
Shakuntala
and retraces his steps.)
Shakuntala (takes a step, then turns with an eager gesture).
O King, I cannot
do as you would have me. You hardly know me after this short talk. But
oh, do not forget me.
King.
When evening comes, the shadow of the tree
Is cast far forward, yet does not depart;
Even so, belovèd, wheresoe’er you be,
The thought of you can never leave my heart.
Shakuntala (takes a few steps. To herself).
Oh, oh! When I hear him speak
so, my feet will not move away. I will hide in this amaranth hedge and
see how long his love lasts.
(She hides and waits.)
King.
Oh, my belovèd, my love for you is my whole life, yet you leave
me and go away without a thought.
Your body, soft as siris-flowers,
Engages passion’s utmost powers;
How comes it that your heart is hard
As stalks that siris-blossoms guard?
Shakuntala.
When I hear this, I have no power to go.
King.
What have I to do here, where she is not?
(He gazes on the
ground.)
Ah, I cannot go.
The perfumed lotus-chain
That once was worn by her
Fetters and keeps my heart
A hopeless prisoner.
(He lifts it reverently.)
Shakuntala (looking at her arm).
Why, I was so weak and ill that when
the lotus-bracelet fell off, I did not even notice it.
King (laying the lotus-bracelet on his heart).
Ah!
Once, dear, on your sweet arm it lay,
And on my heart shall ever stay;
Though you disdain to give me joy,
I find it in a lifeless toy.
Shakuntala.
I cannot hold back after that. I will use the bracelet as an
excuse for my coming.
(She approaches.)
WHEN FIRST I LOVED
Taj Mohammad Amrothi
WHEN first I loved, I gave my very soul
Utterly unreserved to Love's control,
But Love deceived me, wrenched my youth away
And made the gold of life for ever grey.
Long I lived lonely, yet I tried in vain
With any other Joy to stifle pain;
There is no other joy, I learned to know,
And so returned to Love, as long ago.
Yet I, this little while ere I go hence,
Love very lightly now, in self-defence.
REQUEST Laurence Hope (1865-1904)
IVE me yourself one hour; I do not crave
For any love, or even thought of me.
Come, as a Sultan may caress a slave
And then forget for ever, utterly.
Come! as west winds, that passing, cool and wet,
O'er desert places, leave them fields in flower.
And all my life, for I shall not forget,
Will keep the fragrance of that perfect hour
| Adela Florence Nicolson | |
|---|---|
 Adela Florence Nicolson |
|
| Born | April 9, 1865 Stoke Bishop, Gloucestershire |
| Died | October 4, 1904 (aged 39) Madras |
| Occupation | Poet |
| Spouse(s) | Malcolm Hassels Nicolson |
| Parents | Arthur Cory (father), Fanny Elizabeth Griffin (mother) |
DISLOYAL
by: Laurence Hope (1865-1904)
OU were more than a Lover to me,--
- Were something sacred, and half divine,--
- Akin to Sunset over the Sea,
- To leaves that tremble and stars that shine.
- There was not much to attract in me,
- No gift or beauty; you did not care
- Enough to give me fidelity
- Who cared so deeply, and could not share.
- Alas, my Temple! I find the Shrine
- I entered barefoot, with bended head,
- To pay that tender homage of mine,
- An open courtyard, where all may tread!
- And all men knew it, I hear, but I,
- Who being a trusting fool, it seems,
- Went to the Market of Love to buy
- With coins of worship, and faith, and dreams!
- Still it is over. Now, to forget!
- I know not whether to choose anew
- In hopes of finding loyalty yet,
- Or fond but faithless, drift on with you.
- Loving you lightly, among the rest,--
- (Many a little, not greatly one),--
- You may be right: I may find it best
- To do, henceforward, as you have done.
- But ah, for my sweet, lost nights with you,
- When had Death been, in the dawning grey,
- Price of your beauty and love, I knew
- I would have paid, and been glad to pay!
| Charles Baudelaire | |
|---|---|
 Charles Baudelaire ca. 1863 |
|
| Born | Charles Pierre Baudelaire April 9, 1821 Paris, France |
| Died | August 31, 1867 (aged 46) Paris, France |
| Occupation | Poet, art critic |
| Nationality | French |
| Period | 1844–1866 |
| Literary movement | Symbolist, Modernist |
| Signature |  |
The Balcony
by: Charles Baudelaire
OTHER of memories, mistress of mistresses,
- O thou, my pleasure, thou, all my desire,
- Thou shalt recall the beauty of caresses,
- The charm of evenings by the gentle fire,
- Mother of memories, mistress of mistresses!
- The eves illumined by the burning coal,
- The balcony where veiled rose-vapour clings--
- How soft your breast was then, how sweet your soul!
- Ah, and we said imperishable things,
- Those eves illumined by the burning coal.
- Lovely the suns were in those twilights warm,
- And space profound, and strong life's pulsing flood,
- In bending o'er you, queen of every charm,
- I thought I breathed the perfume in your blood.
- The suns were beauteous in those twilights warm.
- The film of night flowed round and over us,
- And my eyes in the dark did your eyes meet;
- I drank your breath, ah! sweet and poisonous,
- And in my hands fraternal slept your feet--
- Night, like a film, flowed round and over us.
- I can recall those happy days forgot,
- And see, with head bowed on your knees, my past.
- Your languid beauties now would move me not
- Did not your gentle heart and body cast
- The old spell of those happy days forgot.
- Can vows and perfumes, kisses infinite,
- Be reborn from the gulf we cannot sound;
- As rise to heaven suns once again made bright
- After being plunged in deep seas and profound?
- Ah, vows and perfumes, kisses infinite!
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