Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Indian Lover's Song
The Indian Lover's Song.
Hasten, love! the sun hath set,
And the moon, through twilight, gleaming,
On the mosque's white minaret
Now in silver light is streaming.
And the moon, through twilight, gleaming,
On the mosque's white minaret
Now in silver light is streaming.
All is hushed in soft repose,
Silence rests on field and dwelling,
Save where the bulbul[1] to the rose
A tale of love is sweetly telling.
Silence rests on field and dwelling,
Save where the bulbul[1] to the rose
A tale of love is sweetly telling.
Stars are glittering in the sky,
Blest abodes of light and gladness;
Oh! my life! that thou and I
Might quit for them this world of sadness.
Blest abodes of light and gladness;
Oh! my life! that thou and I
Might quit for them this world of sadness.
See the fire-fly in the tope[2]
Brightly through the darkness shining,
As the ray which heavenly hope
Flashes on the soul's repining.
Brightly through the darkness shining,
As the ray which heavenly hope
Flashes on the soul's repining.
Then haste! bright treasure of my heart!
Flowers around, and stars above thee,
Alone must see us meet and part,
Alone must witness how I love thee.
Flowers around, and stars above thee,
Alone must see us meet and part,
Alone must witness how I love thee.