THE serpents are asleep among the poppies,
The fireflies light the soundless panther's way
To tangled paths where shy gazelles are straying,
And parrot-plumes outshine the dying day.
O soft! the lotus-buds upon the stream
Are stirring like sweet maidens when they dream.
A caste-mark on the azure brows of Heaven,
The golden moon burns sacred, solemn, bright
The winds are dancing in the forest-temple,
And swooning at the holy feet of Night.
Hush! in the silence mystic voices sing
And make the gods their incense-offering.
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Comments
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This is a lovely poem. There is so much imagery to embrace, from the silent mystic voices as incense offerings to the serpents asleep among the poppies. Line 7 is a cultural reference that I didn't quite expect, that of the sky being compared to a caste-mark--very interesting. I know that there is a caste system that is practiced in India, so the use of the system with the sky just struck me as--interesting, lol.
I like the religious tie-ins with this poem (lines 9, 10, 11, 12, and if I want to stretch symbols, line 1 [serpents as evil omens or evil deeds]).
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