The Secret Splendour

("Purbal has no natural water-supply; so a health-resort cannot be established there as on the opposite hill, Matheran" — Guide Book)

They will not vex thee with their lowland chatter,

The wanton littlenesses of their thought;

Aloof, without the friendly word of water,

Thy soaring secrecies remain uncaught.

Green tribes of trance people tiny indigo steep—

Called forth by heavenly rainfall's fugitive stir;

But lake nor spring within thy granite keep

Man-nourishing coolth a crystal prisoner.

No thirst for cheap dominions of delight

Thy grandeurs slake. Not thou the body's goal:

Our flesh can feed no weakness with thy might—

Those lofty rocks push through to the sheer soul!

31.5.42

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