"clime" poems
1
It was one of those clear,sharp.mustless days
That summer and man delight in.
Never had Heaven seemed quite so high,
Never had earth seemed quite so green,
Never had the world seemed quite so clean
Or sky so nigh.
And I heard the Deity’s voice in
The sun’s warm rays,
And the white cloud’s intricate maze,
And the blue sky’s beautiful sheen.
2
I looked to the heavens and saw him there,—
A black speck downward drifting,
Nearer and nearer he steadily sailed,
Nearer and nearer he slid through space,
In an unending aerial race,
This sailor who hailed
From the Clime of the Clouds.—Ever shifting,
On billows of air
And the blue sky seemed never so fair,
And the rest of the world kept pace.
3
On the white of his head the sun flashed bright;
And he battled the wind with wide pinions,
Clearer and clearer the gale whistled loud,
Clearer and clearer he came into view,—
Bigger and blacker against the blue.
Then a dragon of cloud
Gathering all its minions
Rushed to the fight,
And swallowed him up in a bite;
And the sky lay empty clear through.
4
Long I watched. And at last afar
Caught sight of a speck in the vastness;
Ever smaller,ever decreasing,
Ever drifting,drifting awayInto the endless realms of day;
Finally ceasing.
So into Heaven’s vast fastness
Vanished that bar
Of black,as a fluttering star
Goes out while still on its way.
5
So I lost him. But I shall always see
In my mind
The warm,yellow sun,and the ether free;
The vista’s sky,and the white cloud trailing,
Trailing behind,—
And below the young earth’s summer-green arbors,
And on high the eagle,—sailing,sailing
Into far skies and unknown harbors
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It was golden and splendid,
That City of light;
A vision suspended
In deeps of the night;
A region of wonder and glory, whose temples were marble and white.
I remember the season
It dawn'd on my gaze;
The mad time of unreason,
The brain-numbing days
When Winter, white-sheeted and ghastly, stalks onward to torture and craze.
More lovely than Zion
It shone in the sky
When the beams of Orion
Beclouded my eye,
Bringing sleep that was filled with dim mem'ries of moments obscure and gone by.
Its mansions were stately,
With carvings made fair,
Each rising sedately
On terraces rare,
And the gardens were fragrant and bright with strange miracles blossoming there.
The avenues lur'd me
With vistas sublime;
Tall arches assur'd me
That once on a time
I had wander'd in rapture beneath them, and bask'd in the Halcyon clime.
On the plazas were standing
A sculptur'd array;
Long bearded, commanding,
rave men in their day—
But one stood dismantled and broken, its bearded face battered away.
In that city effulgent
No mortal I saw,
But my fancy, indulgent
To memory's law,
Linger'd long on the forms in the plazas, and eyed their stone features with
awe.
I fann'd the faint ember
That glow'd in my mind,
And strove to remember
The aeons behind; &
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The day has now gone here is the night
It's twelve o'clock all lights gone out
Not a single soul no one insight
We look out the window no one about.
Eyes are weary we are fighting sleep
Time to clime up that wooden hill
Waiting for us is the bed and sheets
Tired and drowsy sleep we will.
The evenings are colder
The frost here again
But we are much older
And our health's not the same
So as we head to that slumber land
And we dream our cares away
We pull up the blankets with our hands
And say goodnight to the day.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
Dear Friends, I had composed this poem in 2008 after reading an
article by a Lady Doctor who was a Biologist, and had initially posted it on 'Poemhunter.com'. Hope you will like it! Thanks, - Raj
PHYSICS AND CHEMISTRY OF LOVE !
Love’s physics and chemistry, has forever
remained a mystery!
There are no permanent equations to resolve,
Love's unseen wave like force!
It travels through three dimensional space,
At frequencies higher than electromagnetic
waves!
It remains unhindered by barriers of cast, creed,
or clime,
Giving two beating hearts a feel of the divine!
It generates a magnetic force field, making
two hearts in unison beat!
Yet Biologists claim that a chemical called
(PEA) Phenylethylamine, -
Triggers loves molecules in the human mind!
Chocolates are rich in this PEA content they say,
And is a perfect gift on the Valentine’s Day!
The chemical Dopamine makes the lovers to
glow and feel fine,
When they live on love and fresh air and may
even forget to dine!
While Norepinephrine, which stimulates our
adrenaline production,
Makes the lovers world go round in a joyous
motion!
But Oxytoxin that 'cuddling chemical', requires
constant contact for its effects to prevail!
Cupid’s arrows may be dipped in its pail,
Before those arrows on lovers begin to hail!
Creating unbearable attraction leading to infatuation,
Making two hearts beat as one with love’s magic
potion!
But such feelings remain for a limited duration,
Varying with people with different emotions!
In a 'mercurial type' loves ecstasy gets mixed, -
And they frequently require a PEA fix!
But those who stick to a single mate,
Are said to be rich in Vasopressin content!
And finally when infatuation gradually subsides,
Chemicals triggered by Endorphine slowly overtakes,
When calmness and stability with loving bond
prevails!
This Endorphine is reputed to be rather addictive,
And firmly binds those forces released by PEA, -
which are rather seductive!
(All Copyrights with Raj Nandy of New Delhi)
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 9:22 AM UTC
1255
Longing is like the Seed
That wrestles in the Ground,
Believing if it intercede
It shall at length be found.
The Hour, and the Clime—
Each Circumstance unknown,
What Constancy must be achieved
Before it see the Sun!
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You
I waited
for a long time.
Speak,
My hope will
End.
An SMS
changes clime,
Weak.
When you will
Send?
Nothing
I asked for.
Offer
Some bliss
To me.
I desired
Not a life nor
Glamor.
You, just miss
Me.
Once,
You, become
Plaintive
And express
Heart.
Tell
Felt some
Sensitive
And confess
Part.
Let
My heart leap,
Knowing
Your aptitude,
Stance.
Let
The heart keep
Singing,
And in solitude
Dance.
S. Bharat
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 3:57 AM UTC
When descends on the Atlantic
The gigantic
Storm-wind of the equinox,
Landward in his wrath he scourges
The toiling surges,
Laden with seaweed from the rocks:
From Bermuda’s reefs; from edges
Of sunken ledges,
In some far-off, bright Azore;
From Bahama, and the dashing,
Silver-flashing
Surges of San Salvador;
From the tumbling surf, that buries
The Orkneyan skerries,
Answering the hoarse Hebrides;
And from wrecks of ships, and drifting
Spars, uplifting
On the desolate, rainy seas;—
Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless main;
Till in sheltered coves, and reaches
Of sandy beaches,
All have found repose again.
So when storms of wild emotion
Strike the ocean
Of the poet’s soul, erelong
From each cave and rocky fastness,
In its vastness,
Floats some fragment of a song:
From the far-off isles enchanted,
Heaven has planted
With the golden fruit of Truth;
From the flashing surf, whose vision
Gleams Elysian
In the tropic clime of Youth;
From the strong Will, and the Endeavor
That forever
Wrestle with the tides of Fate;
From the wreck of Hopes far-scattered,
Tempest-shattered,
Floating waste and desolate;—
Ever drifting, drifting, drifting
On the shifting
Currents of the restless heart;
Till at length in books recorded,
They, like hoarded
Household words, no more depart.
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As when a pigeon, loos'd in realms remote,
Takes instant wing, and seeks his native cote,
So speed my blessings from a barb'rous clime
To thee and Providence at Christmas time!
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There's a certain condition known as losing connection
involving people, places and things of strong affection.
The phenomenon is marked by one or two parting to separate ways
and a feeling of disconnection is experienced highlighting the days.
Where the people concerned, in the past, were once close together,
are all now, due to a lack of communication, more apart than ever.
Once good friends, close relatives, associates and even lovers
have all fallen victim to the malady of estrangement as others.
We should never underestimate the effect of the passage of time
especially when augmented with distance that determines clime.
In this case the distance between the minds and hearts of all those who
have so drifted apart from each other no longer holding the same view.
It may also be a case where people have outgrown or transcended themselves
and do not identify any more with what was once regarded as familiar delves.
The vicissitudes of life can also be a major cause and often very decisive factor
where on the stage of this world one assumes or takes the role of a different actor.
Who knows to what degree a situation can change or influence the course of events
and leaves those alienated, that were once close together, now with different intents.
Another very obvious aspect is the physical departure because of death
of all those who, in this life, virtually shared the same space and breath.
It has also been written that, the soul of a person gone, sometimes tries to revive
or contact those whom it had most connection with while it was physically alive.
The same can be said of some of those who are still in their earthly ****** form
and cannot cope without the assurance or connection that before was the norm.
__________________________________
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
In days dead and burried in time,
In a very far away enchanted clime,
In the mighty kingdom of Nineva
Where there fairly shone forever,
There once was a strange lonely wood
That ever in fairest robes of green stood
By the edge of a fair shoreline of pearl,
Whose mystery none may tell nor unfurl.
For akin to the most effulgent yonder star
That forevermore scintillates from afar
In a splendiferous novelty golden cluster,
So thrice scintillated the gem's luster.
And 'tis for this that as we all truly know,
All mortals, I say, all mortals of long ago
Gravitated from corners of distant lands
On the quest for riches by those strands.
Once, sweltering was the noontide
When upon a violent lonely rolling tide
A bunch of desperate pirates were seen
Nearing that wood of emerald sheen.
In a while, they'd gathered all they could,
Leaving not a single gem in the wood.
Alas! A wind murmured upon the skies
In faint whispers: "Woods have eyes"
So muttered all birds - all birds of the air,
All creatures in caverns desolate yet fair,
All leaves upon strange shadowy trees,
And all - all creatures of wild lonely seas.
But, despite the looming dark omen,
Swifter than plummeting drops of rain,
So hastily dashed every single pirate
Blindingly minding not about their fate.
They raised their silvery sails to take sail
But hark! All this - all this was to no avail;
For upon the skies no wind was seen
To render them across so wide a sea.
In a jiffy, louder than birds of the skies
All gems whispered, "Woods have eyes."
From that moment on, all lost their sight,
Doomed never to behold the sun's light.
And now, upon those murky restless seas
They dost weep but no plea can please,
For they were doomed to rove evermore
In search of their long forgotten shore.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros, Kampala, Uganda. 29th.July.2018.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 4:03 AM UTC
For the dim regions whence my fathers came
My spirit, bondaged by the body, longs.
Words felt, but never heard, my lips would frame;
My soul would sing forgotten jungle songs.
I would go back to darkness and to peace,
But the great western world holds me in fee,
And I may never hope for full release
While to its alien gods I bend my knee.
Something in me is lost, forever lost,
Some vital thing has gone out of my heart,
And I must walk the way of life a ghost
Among the sons of earth, a thing apart;
For I was born, far from my native clime,
Under the white man's menace, out of time.
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By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE—out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters—lone and dead,
Their still waters—still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead,—
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily,—
By the mountains—near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,—
By the gray woods,—by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp,—
By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,—
By each spot the most unholy—
In each nook most melancholy,—
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memories of the past—
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by—
White-robed forms of friends long given,
In agony, to the Earth—and Heaven.
For the heart whose woes are legion
’Tis a peaceful, soothing region—
For the spirit that walks in shadow
’Tis—oh, ’tis an Eldorado!
But the traveller, travelling through it,
May not—dare not openly view it;
Never its mysteries are exposed
To the weak human eye unclosed;
So wills its King, who hath forbid
The uplifting of the fringed lid;
And thus the sad Soul that here passes
Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only.
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
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Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The northern clime beneath her genial ray,
Dartmouth, congratulates thy blissful sway:
Elate with hope her race no longer mourns,
Each soul expands, each grateful ***** burns,
While in thine hand with pleasure we behold
The silken reins, and Freedom’s charms unfold.
Long lost to realms beneath the northern skies
She shines supreme, while hated faction dies:
Soon as appear’d the Goddess long desir’d,
Sick at the view, she languish’d and expir’d;
Thus from the splendors of the morning light
The owl in sadness seeks the caves of night.
No more, America, in mournful strain
Of wrongs, and grievance unredress’d complain,
No longer shalt thou dread the iron chain,
Which wanton Tyranny with lawless hand
Had made, and with it meant t’ enslave the land.
Should you, my lord, while you peruse my song,
Wonder from whence my love of Freedom sprung,
Whence flow these wishes for the common good,
By feeling hearts alone best understood,
I, young in life, by seeming cruel fate
Was snatch’d from Afric’s fancy’d happy seat:
What pangs excruciating must ******
What sorrows labour in my parent’s breast?
Steel’d was that soul and by no misery mov’d
That from a father seiz’d his babe belov’d:
Such, such my case. And can I then but pray
Others may never feel tyrannic sway?
For favours past, great Sir, our thanks are due,
And thee we ask thy favours to renew,
Since in thy pow’r, as in thy will before,
To sooth the griefs, which thou did’st once deplore.
May heav’nly grace the sacred sanction give
To all thy works, and thou for ever live
Not only on the wings of fleeting Fame,
Though praise immortal crowns the patriot’s name,
But to conduct to heav’ns refulgent fane,
May fiery coursers sweep th’ ethereal plain,
And bear thee upwards to that blest abode,
Where, like the prophet, thou shalt find thy God.
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Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late schoolboys and sour ‘prentices,
Go tell court-huntsmen that the King will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices;
Love, all alike, no season knows, nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams so reverend and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink
But that I would not lose her sight so long:
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and, tomorrow late, tell me
Whether both th’ Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou left’st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear ‘All here in one bed lay’.
She is all states, and all princes I;
Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus;
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy centre is, these walls thy sphere.
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Put 'Goodness' of a good man on test.
In moderate clime it might appear best.
Examine the 'Goodness' in extremes.
It will be different from what it seems.
Leave 'Goodness' under the desert sun.
To help 'Goodness' there should be none.
With magnifying glass check its sphere.
Cracks and fissures are sure to appear.
Now place 'Goodness' on mountaintop.
Keep it in position with the help of prop.
Leave it in Bone-chilling cold and depart.
Within days it will crumble and fall apart.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
— White leopard; gold angel speaks
In soft, her mildew-honey tune:
And up upon that gorgeous face,
A sunny clime of hair she blew:
Sneering lips, and men wonder why
At each moment she pounce' in wait:
Dare not the eyes that which she bore,
Those black-beetled minds oft' elate.
And peach-moon skin still catches eyes
Of mine, which cannot fend— and yet,
In all known moments when she sighs
They bathe a room in sunny rend.
And ne'er forget will I that common gleam,
— That gold-white leopard I rarely see.
Jul 25, 2021
Jul 25, 2021 at 2:52 PM UTC
Swoon to a tearful night, unknown to its grief
Dialogue of peace, and those of plight
Ringing of morphology, raindrops on the roof.
Such things heard from the peasants’ seat
In the many wet heads sopping
In the sonorous waves, upright in the city clime
Untending to their beds.
At the bottom of that something
All told are destined they will find
Be pliable to the ills they’ve dealt
To carry on, to work, admonishments
Said once to justify these red romances
That in every rain storm melt
As pity through the night, forever unclasped
From shackles of their blame
Since life and ideology somehow are the same.
‘Tis destiny for abating storms
As some will rose from their thickened thorns
These nights deliver their gentle morns
All the same as hemlock grows as poison
And is best to be avoided.
How—this, I fear only rain my know—
Can we still bathe in fraternal glow
When some still heal from Death himself
Each breath that enters is quickly prayed to leave
High on seated thrones
Those mean so quick to thieving, the poor
The lazy deserve no quarter
Those dusty pockets afford not one
So steal the heart upon his sleeve.
May we help man wrought our kin and kind
By common tongue, free, as we are ought?
Since another may make my world
He is mine to protect, not throw to bytes
So ludicrous and feeding back upon themselves
For destiny can be remade
If hatred weren’t so blind.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
*
*
Sitting in the shade of ****** lilies, is
the blessed beauty, the Heart of Summer
Her skin, shimmering russet
Her eyes, molten gold
Her lips, pouty rose buds
Her hair, a slick raven halo
Her body, curvaceous and slender
Flaunted by her diaphanous lilac robe
Through her sculpted nose, she inhales the
warm clime; her feet upon the verdure.
As she walks through the gardens, the
flowers burst into blooms, trumpets
to the song of working honey bees.
Ahead is a lake, clear, crystal and celestine,
stars dance and wink upon the surface.
She picks the daisies and adorns it in
her hair, thinking of her great empery.
Here in the palms of light and love, there
is no sin and no pain.
She hears the ringing bells of
nature, the song of wings.
'For I love all life and light,' she smiles, 'and more,
I will bring.'
*
*
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
Thou wast that all to me, love,
For which my soul did pine—
A green isle in the sea, love,
A fountain and a shrine,
All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,
And all the flowers were mine.
Ah, dream too bright to last!
Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise
But to be overcast!
A voice from out the Future cries,
“On! on!”—but o’er the Past
(Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies
Mute, motionless, aghast!
For, alas! alas! with me
The light of Life is o’er!
“No more—no more—no more”—
(Such language holds the solemn sea
To the sands upon the shore)
Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,
Or the stricken eagle soar!
And all my days are trances,
And all my nightly dreams
Are where thy dark eye glances,
And where thy footstep gleams—
In what ethereal dances,
By what eternal streams!
Alas! for that accursed time
They bore thee o’er the billow,
From love to titled age and crime,
And an unholy pillow!
From me, and from our misty clime,
Where weeps the silver willow!
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An immigrant from County Clare
brought to this harsher clime-
Phoebe Prince, an Irish lass,
a gentle heart and mind.
First used, and then discarded
by one boy, then another.-
Object of the mean girl’s scorn
the consummate "outsider"
On her last day alive
They hounded her from school.
The girl they called the “Irish ****
disgraced and played the fool.
Her sister, Lauren, found her body
hanging lifeless in the hall.
Befriended by nobody
Phoebe chose to end it all
And on the day they held her wake
Those monsters held their dance
A debutante cotillion
for a troop of soulless tramps.
She’s buried here in County Clare
because the Ocean's waves
protect her from the harpies
who drove her to her grave
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
To Mercy Pity Peace and Love.
All pray in their distress:
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.
For Mercy Pity Peace and Love,
Is God our Father dear:
And Mercy Pity Peace and Love,
Is Man his child and care.
For Mercy has a human heart
Pity, a human face:
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.
Then every man of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine
Love Mercy Pity Peace,
And all must love the human form.
In heathen, Turk or jew,
Where Mercy, Love and Pity dwell,
There God is dwelling too.
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LIFE! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met,
I own to me 's a secret yet.
But this I know, when thou art fled,
Where'er they lay these limbs, this head,
No clod so valueless shall be
As all that then remains of me.
O whither, whither dost thou fly?
Where bend unseen thy trackless course?
And in this strange divorce,
Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?
To the vast ocean of empyreal flame
From whence thy essence came
Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed
From matter's base encumbering ****
Or dost thou, hid from sight,
Wait, like some spell-bound knight,
Through blank oblivious years th' appointed hour
To break thy trance and reassume thy power?
Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?
O say, what art thou, when no more thou'rt thee?
Life! we have been long together,
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear;
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;--
Then steal away, give little warning,
Choose thine own time;
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning!
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Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
Who countest the steps of the Sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done.
Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale ****** shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire.
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.
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In futurity
I prophesy see.
That the earth from sleep.
(Grave the sentence deep)
Shall arise and seek
For her maker meek:
And the desart wild
Become a garden mild.
In the southern clime,
Where the summers prime
Never fades away;
Lovely Lyca lay.
Seven summers old
Lovely Lyca told,
She had wandered long.
Hearing wild birds song.
Sweet sleep come to me
Underneath this tree;
Do father, mother weep.—
“Where can Lyca sleep”.
Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
How can Lyca sleep.
If her mother weep.
If her heart does ake.
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,
Lyca shall not weep.
Frowning, frowning night,
O’er this desert bright.
Let thy moon arise.
While I close my eyes.
Sleeping Lyca lay:
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
View’d the maid asleep
The kingly lion stood
And the ****** view’d:
Then he gambolled round
O’er the hallowed ground:
Leopards, tygers play,
Round her as she lay;
While the lion old,
Bow’d his mane of gold,
And her ***** lick,
And upon her neck,
From his eyes of flame,
Ruby tears there came;
While the lioness
Loos’d her slender dress,
And naked they convey’d
To caves the sleeping maid.
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