A memory lost in nameless grave,
India remembers you no exalted more,
She bears not how you loved her lore,
To you he is none but Sahib White,
A Wilful colonial oppressor.
I set down your freckled name today,
On the hoary rocks of Jungheera,
Where all at once can witness true,
The doubting mane of manicktollah,
Spirit wafting the smoky greens.
Then seated under an unhurried tree,
Lost in pensive melodious quill,
Silken thoughts sighing your soul,
Hybrid vigour churning your mind
In sleepless fits of rhythmic rhyme.
Tuned to the music of nature's pulse,
Your sensible beat of passionate vein,
Throbbing with the heartbeat of grass
Burning with the widow on her promising pyre,
Loving with a feeling full of innocent fire.
Of Byron's beautiful, dark wan brood,
Browning's wondrous tender love mood,
Black eyes, twinkling, silent, deep,
For ignorant humanity, wanton weeps.