Poems
THEME/S
Life has no aim for me
Save to behold
In a sleep of ebony
Dreams of gold;
To stretch my little hand—
Suddenly feel
Over the drowsy fingers
A new life steal,
Because they pluck, afar
One magic bloom
Out of the dreams that star
The hush of gloom;
Then to awake and see
Still on my palm
The flower of mystery,
Quenchless and calm!
23.11.35
Page 491
Home
Disciples
Amal Kiran
Books
Share your feedback. Help us improve. Or ask a question.