In the tree roots, and all the sacred flock
Of red flamingo; and my love, Vijaya
And may no restless fay with fidget fing
Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me.
THE INDIAN UPON GOD
I passed along the water's edge below the humid trees,
My spirit rocked in evening light, the rushes round my knees,
My spirit rocked in sleep and sighs; and saw the moorfowl pace
All dripping on a grassy slope, and saw them cease to chase
Each other round in circles, and heard the eldest speak: