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falling evening cooled the air, The Guru, in the twilight dim, Caressed his Chela's silken hair And told this tale of love to him.

"Once, on the march to Bikanir, I, halting by a wayside well, Beheld a woman drawing near Who cast on me a magic spell.

"Not hers the beauty, day by day Soliciting by tender lures, But that which strikes the heart straightway, And instant victory ensures.

"She murmured, stretching forth her arms, Her red, love-thirsty lips apart, 'At sunset,—under yonder palms,— Come to my garden,—and my heart!'

"Ah, that unending afternoon! The sun seemed tethered in the sky. I felt my inmost senses swoon With my desire's intensity.

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