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  ― 32 ―

Kismet

THE days are hawks, Belovéd,
That feed on hearts of men:
The camel-train goes westward,
And breast-high blows the sand;
And what am I that shudder
To quench the smoking brand?
The days are hawks, Belovéd,
That feed on hearts of men.

Last night the bamboo shivered;
I heard the wind go by,
The homeless wind, Belovéd,
That hears the hidden things;
I saw the bright steel redden;
I heard the beat of wings
Last night….. Last night, Belovéd,
I heard the wind go by.

What flesh shall stand against you,
O ye who cast the die?
I heard the stalking lion
Choke back his sobbing breath,
And crouch before the Presence
That only men call Death!
What flesh shall stand against you,
O ye who cast the die?

To-night is ours, Belovéd!
To-morrow's foes are far;
Your eyes are soft as lightnings
That play across the south,
And more than Paynim plunder
The red wine of your mouth;
To-night is ours, Belovéd;
To-morrow's foes are far!




  ― 33 ―
To-night the gods are laughing,
We listen and forget—
Forget the slow tides ebbing,
Forget the creeping sand;
O Maya! Maya! moon-gift
Upon a beggar's hand,
To-night the gods are laughing,
We listen and forget!

The days are hawks, Belovéd,
That feed on hearts of men;
To-morrow is a young wind,
We follow where it blows;
But who shall reap the young wheat
Or pluck To-morrow's rose?
The days are hawks, Belovéd,
That feed on hearts of men!

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