The Silken Tassel/The Wheels of Time
The Wheels of Time
O my dreams! come back a minute! What! no more now, that is all?—
Here I sit beside the sea-shore; hark, there comes a lightning-call
Through the long-forgotten moments, where Time’s changing curtains fall.
Here I sit beside the sea-shore; hark, there comes a lightning-call
Through the long-forgotten moments, where Time’s changing curtains fall.
Would not Time come back a minute, with the winds and with the showers,
While the leaves wore rosy-green and light embraced the trees and towers?
O, that I would give my lover not one but a million flowers!
While the leaves wore rosy-green and light embraced the trees and towers?
O, that I would give my lover not one but a million flowers!
I was proud and full of beauty Beauty that is worst of wines;
Not the drinker but the cask that holds to drunkenness declines:
O the vanity, the folly! that a true heart undermines.
Not the drinker but the cask that holds to drunkenness declines:
O the vanity, the folly! that a true heart undermines.
Beauty put the crown of youth and shone with an emblazon’d sheen,
Beauty took the wand of magic and became the central queen;
I was proud and I was youthful; I was hardly seventeen.
Beauty took the wand of magic and became the central queen;
I was proud and I was youthful; I was hardly seventeen.
And they came and throng’d around me like a crowd of swarming bees,
And I stood between them stately as each raced for my decrees;
I was careless of their praise, though smiling at their tragedies.
And I stood between them stately as each raced for my decrees;
I was careless of their praise, though smiling at their tragedies.
Oh, the Spring is full of colours of the flowers and the skies;
Oh, the Spring is full of music and the birds and butterflies:
But the melting snows are treacherous: Traveller! keep thy watchful eyes!
Oh, the Spring is full of music and the birds and butterflies:
But the melting snows are treacherous: Traveller! keep thy watchful eyes!
Life was but an art of fancies stuff’d with lighter thoughts misspent:
Life was honey and the roses: life was ne’er a true intent:
Oh, this youth is full of follies, pride and mirth and merriment!
Life was honey and the roses: life was ne’er a true intent:
Oh, this youth is full of follies, pride and mirth and merriment!
So I pass’d my days in glory of my beauty and my art,
And I triumph’d in my trifles, while I saw each breaking heart;—
I would rather rest my horses and would drive these in my cart!
And I triumph’d in my trifles, while I saw each breaking heart;—
I would rather rest my horses and would drive these in my cart!
But within this storm of dust I saw the true gold shining there,
And within the blown-out ashes glow’d a spark with radiant glare;
And I thought this was my gem; but still my art was full of care.
And within the blown-out ashes glow’d a spark with radiant glare;
And I thought this was my gem; but still my art was full of care.
And he came to me, my true love—purest gold without alloy;
And my art flew lighter fancies which with those it did employ;
He was wise and tall and handsome: others’ envy and my joy.
And my art flew lighter fancies which with those it did employ;
He was wise and tall and handsome: others’ envy and my joy.
Ah! he came to me, my true love brave yet tender to the core;
And he loved me with a love that youth had never dream’d before;—
And he loved and loved;—I wish’d a life of loving evermore!
And he loved me with a love that youth had never dream’d before;—
And he loved and loved;—I wish’d a life of loving evermore!
But my art in all its motions was still reigning there supreme;
Though my heart was beating for him, it was planning every theme—
Love burns bright in his own light, it needs no food of art to gleam.
Though my heart was beating for him, it was planning every theme—
Love burns bright in his own light, it needs no food of art to gleam.
Thus the inner snake was twisting all my outer being’s crust,
Love was stung with bitter poison by the brute I fed in trust:
What would of the snake remain, but broken lines upon the dust?
Love was stung with bitter poison by the brute I fed in trust:
What would of the snake remain, but broken lines upon the dust?
Many a milky moonlight-breaker dash’d against the pebbly beach,
While I saw him weave with courage words of his love each to each;
And I talk’d of dimming starlight, drowning him in sound and speech.
While I saw him weave with courage words of his love each to each;
And I talk’d of dimming starlight, drowning him in sound and speech.
Many a pearl-embroider’d morning did we trace the garden’s shade,
Looking at the little isles of the lotus in the pools inlaid;
And he stepp’d with close-tongued patience, while with butterflies I play’d.
Looking at the little isles of the lotus in the pools inlaid;
And he stepp’d with close-tongued patience, while with butterflies I play’d.
Many an eve I found him gazing on the sun-sown western slope,
Then through the dark on the world’s a-million-star-set horoscope;
And I eyed some brighter lines upon the brows of drooping hope.
Then through the dark on the world’s a-million-star-set horoscope;
And I eyed some brighter lines upon the brows of drooping hope.
But where is the mind that leaves its vanity for hollow shame?
Ah! where is the heart that rises all above its shallow name?
Better die an honest fool than fan the soul’s ill-colour’d flame.
Ah! where is the heart that rises all above its shallow name?
Better die an honest fool than fan the soul’s ill-colour’d flame.
False is all the green that glistens on the heaving noon-day sea,
False is all the red that furrows heaven’s own blue simplicity:
Yet man roams behind this mirage—or these sufferings cannot be.
False is all the red that furrows heaven’s own blue simplicity:
Yet man roams behind this mirage—or these sufferings cannot be.
Let them fall and crush the seed that grows the poisonous plant of yore,
Let them fall and grind the being and strain out the unclean ore,
Till the serpent dies here trampled, and the world smiles more and more!
Let them fall and grind the being and strain out the unclean ore,
Till the serpent dies here trampled, and the world smiles more and more!
Oh that Autumn’s yellow lining deck the greenest dreams of Spring!
Oh! that Evening’s mellow purple streak the Morning’s winsome wing!
That to sportive Youth’s gay harp the stern Age lend a sober string!
Oh! that Evening’s mellow purple streak the Morning’s winsome wing!
That to sportive Youth’s gay harp the stern Age lend a sober string!
Well—thus through the playful arches did my art in gaiety run,
Ever smiling, frowning, glooming, fleeting, like the Shravan’s[1] sun;
Sweet and bitter, light and shadow; love with art was love undone.
Ever smiling, frowning, glooming, fleeting, like the Shravan’s[1] sun;
Sweet and bitter, light and shadow; love with art was love undone.
Well, at last there came an evening—of my life the darkest day—
While I stroll’d within my garden, nursing every plant and spray,
Proud of all my rarest flowers that fill’d me with an ever-May:
While I stroll’d within my garden, nursing every plant and spray,
Proud of all my rarest flowers that fill’d me with an ever-May:
There he came to me, my true love every step a step of love;
And his eyes through thick-set branches gleam’d on me like a tender dove,
With a hope that is the morning raining light from far above.
And his eyes through thick-set branches gleam’d on me like a tender dove,
With a hope that is the morning raining light from far above.
And he praised me and my garden; every plant and every leaf;
And extoll’d each chosen flower; while swinging between love and grief
Flash’d a sudden thought upon him brightening him a moment brief.
And extoll’d each chosen flower; while swinging between love and grief
Flash’d a sudden thought upon him brightening him a moment brief.
There a rose in all its glory like a maiden stood upright,
In among the whitest lilies smiled its rich and dawning light,
And its perfume like the moonlight shadow’d all the flowers in sight.
In among the whitest lilies smiled its rich and dawning light,
And its perfume like the moonlight shadow’d all the flowers in sight.
There he paused and look’d enchanted at that heaven of flowery wealth;
By whose side a sunny moment gave the spirit joy and health,
Where that rose perfumed of Beauty, set by some mysterious stealth.
By whose side a sunny moment gave the spirit joy and health,
Where that rose perfumed of Beauty, set by some mysterious stealth.
There he long’d and linger’d with some glowing thought upon his brow,
Then he turn’d to me and ask’d me but that rose to him endow—
Rose that bloom’d to mirror Beauty; but alas! where is it now?
Then he turn’d to me and ask’d me but that rose to him endow—
Rose that bloom’d to mirror Beauty; but alas! where is it now?
But I turn’d away a little, smiling lightly in my pride,
And I said I would not pluck it from such glory to divide:
Love and Rose are most alluring while they are not pluck’d beside.
And I said I would not pluck it from such glory to divide:
Love and Rose are most alluring while they are not pluck’d beside.
Here the fading skies on earth their gloomy shades on shades unfurl’d,
Here the distant dark horizon with a tremble whirl’d and twirl’d,
And he seem’d to see here drowning in my garden all the world!
Here the distant dark horizon with a tremble whirl’d and twirl’d,
And he seem’d to see here drowning in my garden all the world!
Slowly slowly from that spot his heavy steps regain’d the gate;
Slowly slowly darken’d wholly all the heavens desolate;
Slowly slowly lessen’d lowly then his heart its stifling weight:
Slowly slowly darken’d wholly all the heavens desolate;
Slowly slowly lessen’d lowly then his heart its stifling weight:
"See, the wheels of Time are running, ever speeding on and on,
Now the sunshine, now the shadow, here the evening, there the dawn;
White and black their spokes are turning, ne’er returning what is gone!
Now the sunshine, now the shadow, here the evening, there the dawn;
White and black their spokes are turning, ne’er returning what is gone!
"Ah the wheels of Time are running, and the glass pours out its sands;
Morning flies and evening lowers, and the night sleeps on the lands;
From the bow once shot the arrow ne’er comes back to human hands!
Morning flies and evening lowers, and the night sleeps on the lands;
From the bow once shot the arrow ne’er comes back to human hands!
"Thus it is—and well, you wish’d so;—but I go; my words are vain;
Autumn cries for Summer’s joys, but Winter is her only gain;
Ever-moving Time doth balance passèd joy with present pain!
Autumn cries for Summer’s joys, but Winter is her only gain;
Ever-moving Time doth balance passèd joy with present pain!
"Ah! that you now hold a flower dearer than the heart’s delight;
Ah that you now find the lightning brighter than the bright sunlight:
Fare ye well! enjoy your fancies! rolling Time will set them right!"
Ah that you now find the lightning brighter than the bright sunlight:
Fare ye well! enjoy your fancies! rolling Time will set them right!"
Far and far my ears were ringing with the voice that trembling moved,
Far and far my eyes did follow till his form a vision proved;
Night was left all black and lonely, glooming in the hollow grooved.
Far and far my eyes did follow till his form a vision proved;
Night was left all black and lonely, glooming in the hollow grooved.
For the morn that follow’d brought a thrill through all the country wide,
And the War of Nations shook all Europe and the World beside:
Might and Right, Restraint and Freedom, fought their fortunes to decide.
And the War of Nations shook all Europe and the World beside:
Might and Right, Restraint and Freedom, fought their fortunes to decide.
There the brave and loyal Indians stood firm by the British cause;
None to flutter, none to linger; not a falter, not a pause;
Forth they went with waving swords to guard eternal Dharma’s laws.
None to flutter, none to linger; not a falter, not a pause;
Forth they went with waving swords to guard eternal Dharma’s laws.
Ay, he was the first, my true love, to obey his country’s call;
There he went to fight her foemen for her honour to install;
There he went, a gallant lion, and with him my all in all!
There he went to fight her foemen for her honour to install;
There he went, a gallant lion, and with him my all in all!
There he fought and fell a hero in the doomful Dardanelles,
Where his daring deeds of valour shook a hundred Turkish hells,
Where his high unconquer’d spirit plunged in scathing shots and shells!
Where his daring deeds of valour shook a hundred Turkish hells,
Where his high unconquer’d spirit plunged in scathing shots and shells!
And the story of his glory flash’d through all the world afar,
Through the growing gloom of horror shone his name a glorious star:
Victory or Death the glory of a soldier who can mar?
Through the growing gloom of horror shone his name a glorious star:
Victory or Death the glory of a soldier who can mar?
There they buried him with honours that the battlefield him gave,
From the king and from the highest richest flowers adorn’d his grave;
Blessed are the dead immortal, blessèd are the mighty brave!
From the king and from the highest richest flowers adorn’d his grave;
Blessed are the dead immortal, blessèd are the mighty brave!
Woe to me, and my one flower! my one flower I could not give;
Woe to me, and my proud art, that left me ever here to grieve;
He had earn’d a million flowers, and he is gone, and I should live!
Woe to me, and my proud art, that left me ever here to grieve;
He had earn’d a million flowers, and he is gone, and I should live!
Wheels of Time! come back a minute! come, O come for me but once!
Leave my dreams their truer flowers and take from heavens a million suns!
Come back once, and see the current of my life where rightly runs!
Leave my dreams their truer flowers and take from heavens a million suns!
Come back once, and see the current of my life where rightly runs!
Would the wheels of Time return not? What! his words were deadly true?
Here I sit beside the sea-shore, looking at the changing blue,
Through the ever-echoing moments where gets every deed its due!
Here I sit beside the sea-shore, looking at the changing blue,
Through the ever-echoing moments where gets every deed its due!
Would the wheels of Time return not, with the winds and with the showers,
While the shadows piled so thickly and light left the trees and towers?
O, that I would give my lover not one but a million flowers!
While the shadows piled so thickly and light left the trees and towers?
O, that I would give my lover not one but a million flowers!
- ↑ The Hindu Samvat month, corresponding to August,