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VERSES
Mayhap, thy spirit loved what mine loves best;
The tread of horses and the pride of life.
The jungle’s magic and the joy of strife.
The long nights spent beneath the spangled
sky—
O dead Mahommedan ! Thy passing guest
By these accepts from thee this meed of rest
Salaam, 0 Bkai !1
IV. EVENING IN THE OPIUM FIELDS
As pageants, marshalled by a masterhand,
So are the poppy-fields; in rose and red
And foam of white and livid purple spread,
Mile upon mile, they stretch on either hand;
Dark by the well the heavy mangoes stand.
Where labouring oxen pace with dusty tread
And dripping water-skins climb up to shed
Their gush upon the irrigated land.
1 Brother.
77

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