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 The Peepul, where the Koel sings In frenzied songs, of amorous things?"

"When, with her child unborn, a woman dies, Her spirit takes the form of a Churel, A maiden's form, with soft, alluring eyes, Where promises of future rapture dwell. Yet is her loveliness, though passing sweet, Marred by the backward-turning of her feet.

"She sits in branches of the Peepul trees, Until beneath, a passing youth she sees. Should she desire him, swift, she will alight, Entreating softly 'Stay with me to-night!' No safety then for him; unless he flies, Soon, in the furnace of her love, he dies!"

"But if indeed these things are so, Yet what am I, that she should care, To watch me as I pass below, Or notice me and find me fair?"

"Yours are the happiest gifts that the Gods have given, Who have never been over ready with gifts to part. Youth, the divine reminiscence of some lost Heaven, Beauty, the dream of the eyes, the desire of the heart.

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