Page:Al Aaraaf (1933).djvu/49



No magic shall sever Thy music from thee. Thou hast bound many eyes In a dreamy sleep – But the strains still arise Which thy vigilance keep – The sound of the rain, Which leaps down to the flower – And dances again In the rhythm of the shower – The murmur that springs From the growing of grass Are the music of things – But are modell'd, alas! –   Away, then, my dearest, Oh! hie thee away To the springs that lie clearest Beneath the moon-ray –