Classic Poem

On wings of song I'd bear thee
Away whom I love so well;
Away to the Ganges' prairie;
I know where 'tis fair to dwell.

There in the still noon is sleeping
A gorgeous-flowered grove;
The lotus-flowers are keeping
Watch for the sister they love.

The violets prattle and flutter,
And gaze at the stars above;
In secret the roses utter
Their fragrant stories of love.

Lithe, gentle gazelles come bounding
Nearer to list to the rose;
Afar you may hear resounding,
The Sacred Stream as it flows.

There will we slumber, sinking
Beneath the palm to rest;
Love and repose in-drinking,
And dreaming dreams thrice-blest.