When I sit watching how they pace and plume,
Bridling their necks, and making melting eyes.
And sidling here and there, and spreading wings,
And wooing and pursuing, with one song

Of " love-love-love," and do not fear the Gods,
But pick dropped rice from Shiva's awful feet ; —
Oh, then I think these be dead Nautch-dancers
Come back to the glad light to coo, and serve,

Desolve me — element by element —
Into the Void, God ! I am content,

So I May only he, for Mm I love,
The water in his tank, the ivinds that rove
Around his brows, the light that serves his needs.
The fire that warms him, and the soil that feeds."