Thoughts: Mahomed Akram
If some day this body of mine were burned
(It found no favour alas! with you)
And the ashes scattered abroad, unurned,
Three Songs Of Zahir-U-Din
The tropic day's redundant charms
Cool twilight soothes away,
The sun slips down behind the palms
Till I Wake
When I am dying, lean over me tenderly, softly,
Stoop, as the yellow roses droop in the wind from the South.
To M. C. N.
Thou hast no wealth, nor any pride of power,
Thy life is offered on affection's altar.
Small sacrifices claim thee, hour by hour,
To The Hills!
'T is eight miles out and eight miles in,
Just at the break of morn.
'T is ice without and flame within,
To gain a kiss at dawn!
To The Unattainable: Lament Of Mahomed Akram
I would have taken Golden Stars from the sky for your necklace,
I would have shaken rose-leaves for your rest from all the