Oblivion could not, could not cloud the image on his soul impressed,
Unless dark treachery from the first had been the monarch of his breast
And if perhaps some weary hours I thought that Vindaraja's mind
Might in some happier cavalier the solace of her slavery find,
I checked the thought; I drove away the vision that with death was rife,
For e'er my trust in thee I lost, in battle I'd forego my life!
Yet even the doubt that thou hast breathed gives me no franchise to
forget,
And were I willing that thy face should cease to fill my vision, yet
'Tis separation's self that binds us closer though the centuries roll,
And forges that eternal chain that binds together soul and soul!
And even were this thought no more than the wild vision of my mind,
Yet in a thousand worlds no face to change for thine this heart could
find.
Thro' life, thro' death 'twere all the same, and when to heaven our
glance we raise,
Full in the very heart of bliss thine eyes shall meet my ardent gaze.
For eyes that have beheld thy face, full readily the truth will own
That God exhausted, when he made thee, all the treasures of his throne!
And my trusting heart will answer while it fills my veins with fire
That to hear of, is to see thee; and to see, is to desire!
Yet unless my Vindaraja I could look upon awhile,
As some traveller in a desert I should perish for her smile;
For 'tis longing for her presence makes the spring of life to me,
And allays the secret suffering none except her eye can see.
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