BY DR. P. N. BINDU

A Rose cried out–"What of our long-pledged vows,

Kissing each other in forgetful mirth,

And lost in summer-love dreaming- of a birth

Under the singing of the springtime boughs

Where the thorny bush grows and sunshine glows?"–

The Dew-drop fretted, said–"I come in dark.

And our love deepens in Unity's spark

O darling, wait in the grove of cooing doves!"

The Rose, in anguish, a dragon-moth eyed–

That stealthily tore her immaculate breast–

And with an imploring look again replied:

"Ah! O dear, mark the Moth trying to wrest

From me the honeyed-kiss in the Cup-heart cast–

"What sweetness's there when the longing hour is past?"

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