O who hath to the peacock given

His feathers lit with lustrous eyes

Which shed soul-holding gleams of heaven?

And when he spreads his tail fan-wise

And dances with such wondrous grace,

Do not fate-sure in vision rise

The beauty of Lord Krishna’s face?

The sleek and mobile hues that crowd

When sunset creeps through folds of cloud;

And of sapphires the liquid blaze;

The glints and luminous replies

In girl’s collyrium-painted eyes: –

Of all rich tints the essence stays

Fast-caught in fair Peacocks-feather-eyes.

O thou blessed, proud Peacock’s feather-eye

That rose in matchless gaiety

From Krishna’s twisted knot of hair–

Thou hadst in His romance thy share:

What breath-taking images teem

In thine each fresh revealing gleam,

–Of His resistless shrill flute-notes!

–Of lovely Dames on whom song dotes!