The Secret Splendour

Shiva

No clay-dream curves with rapture

 The lips of that lone face:

A film of unearthly light

Has blinded the gaze—

A light which bears no colour

Of transient love

But falls from a silver secrecy

Caught high above

The surge of heart or mind,

A virgin blaze

Of beauty carved to a crescent moon

Smiling in spirit space.

Though calm the countenance,

A warrior-will afar

Slays every shadow with this smile

Of heaven's scimitar.

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