In famed Sakoontala I read tonight
How King Dushyanta, in a moment, knew
His consort--draped in robes of sable hue
Dim-eyed, downcast, her lips a widowed white--
By the charmed ring, whose magic cleared his sight
From the false spell that long misled his view.
I know not what delusions may pursue
The souls that journey into Death's strange night;
So, Love, upon thy finger let me slide
The golden bondage of this sapphire ring.
Great ends may center in this trifling thing.
When hearts beat not, and souls to spirits glide,
Heaven's state may compass earth's foreshadowing,
And this small circle mark thee as my bride.