Indian Poetry

ense, soul o'ercome-- Krishna is theirs in the forest; his heart forgets its home.

_Krishna, made for heavenly things,

'Mid those woodland singers sings; With those dancers dances featly, Gives back soft embraces sweetly; Smiles on that one, toys with this, Glance for glance and kiss for kiss; Meets the merry damsels fairly, Plays the round of folly rarely, Lapped in milk-warm spring-time weather, He and those brown girls together._ _And this shadowed earthly love In the twilight of the grove, Dance and song and soft caresses, Meeting looks and tangled tresses, Jayadev the same hath writ, That ye might have gain of it, Sagely its deep sense conceiving And its inner light believing; How that Love--the mighty Master, Lord of all the stars that cluster In the