Blues

© M'sheart2 ~ All images are all rights reserved

Once in the dream of a night I stood Lone in the light of a magical wood, Soul-deep in visions that poppy-like sprang; And spirits of Truth were the birds that sang, And spirits of Love were the stars that glowed, And spirits of Peace were the streams that flowed In that magical wood in the land of sleep. Lone in the light of that magical grove, I felt the stars of the spirits of Love Gather and gleam round my delicate youth, And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth; To quench my longing I bent me low By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow In that magical wood in the land of sleep.

Unwilling priestess in thy cruel fane,

Long hast thou held me, pitiless god of Pain,

Bound to thy worship by reluctant vows,

My tired breast girt with suffering, and my brows

Anointed with perpetual weariness.

Long have I borne thy service, through the stress

Of rigorous years, sad days and slumberless nights,

Performing thine inexorable rites.

For thy dark altars, balm nor milk nor rice,

But mine own soul thou'st ta'en for sacrifice:

All the rich honey of my youth's desire,

And all the sweet oils from my crushed life drawn,

And all my flower-like dreams and gem-like fire

Of hopes up-leaping like the light of dawn.

I have no more to give, all that was mine

Is laid, a wrested tribute, at thy shrine;

Let me depart, for my whole soul is wrung,

And all my cheerless orisons are sung;

Let me depart, with faint limbs let me creep

To some dim shade and sink me down to sleep.

- Sarojini Naidu