Page:The Bird of Time (Naidu).djvu/44



[ at her lattice]

O Love! were you a basil-wreath to twine among my tresses, A jewelled clasp of shining gold to bind around my sleeve, O Love! were you the keora's soul that haunts my silken raiment, A bright, vermilion tassel in the girdles that I weave;

O Love! were you the scented fan that lies upon my pillow, A sandal lute, or silver lamp that burns before my shrine, 28