XV

  its two favourite trees, which will not blossom
  while their mistress is grieving;

    The ashoka-tree, with sweetly dancing lines,
  The favourite bakul-tree, are near the bower
    Of amaranth-engirdled jasmine-vines;
  Like me, they wait to feel the winning power
  Of her persuasion, ere they blossom into flower.

  XVI

  its tame peacock;

    A golden pole is set between the pair,
  With crystal perch above its emerald bands
    As green as young bamboo; at sunset there
  Thy friend, the blue-necked peacock, rises, stands,
  And dances when she claps her bracelet-tinkling hands.

  XVII

  and its painted emblems of the god
  of wealth.

    These are the signs—­recall them o’er and o’er,
  My clever friend—­by which the house is known,
    And the Conch and Lotus painted by the door: 
  Alas! when I am far, the charm is gone—­
  The lotus’ loveliness is lost with set of sun.

  XVIII

    Small as the elephant cub thou must become
  For easy entrance; rest where gems enhance
    The glory of the hill beside my home,
  And peep into the house with lightning-glance,
  But make its brightness dim as fireflies’ twinkling dance.

  XIX

  The Yaksha’s bride.

    The supremest woman from God’s workshop gone—­
  Young, slender; little teeth and red, red lips,
    Slight waist and gentle eyes of timid fawn,
  An idly graceful movement, generous hips,
  Fair bosom into which the sloping shoulder slips—­

  XX

    Like a bird that mourns her absent mate anew
  Passing these heavy days in longings keen,
    My girlish wife whose words are sweet and few,
  My second life, shall there of thee be seen—­
  But changed like winter-blighted lotus-blooms, I ween.

  XXI

    Her eyes are swol’n with tears that stream unchidden;
  Her lips turn pale with sorrow’s burning sighs;
    The face that rests upon her hand is hidden
  By hanging curls, as when the glory dies
  Of the suffering moon pursued by thee through nightly skies.

  XXII

The passion of love passes through ten stages, eight of which are suggested in this stanza and the stanzas which follow.  The first stage is not indicated; it is called Exchange of Glances.

    Thou first wilt see her when she seeks relief
  In worship; or, half fancying, half recalling,
    She draws mine image worn by absent grief;
  Or asks the caged, sweetly-singing starling: 
  “Do you remember, dear, our lord?  You were his darling.”

  XXIII

  In this stanza and the preceding one is
  suggested the second stage:  Wistfulness.