in the land of poppies when br red has turned like violent seas, br he came lonely with the nothing br of his mind: and the firey blaze br all uplined throughout, bursts br smiling: never he saw the mad br in such teeming fullness br spreading over a cojuring br charm afresh br br he was free and had no shackles br save the void only-almost measureless - br in his shallow hands he has time's br unending pile, and unhurried br days-therefore, he counted-counted br until beauty's gathering hands br fade in a numberless strain- br br so many times he counted and br so many times his brain failed br in magnificent puzzlement- br dozed and colour speckled, yet in br swooning scent, he tried again br to end up soon in vain losing his ways br in jungle of glories divine: br br a foolish silence stood down here br so long, -perhaps thoughtless- br before him a life intensely rife, br bare- swinging like a dream; br br no more he is now, not a bit br of his shadow-what flower of br life he took from hence, i do not know, or br perhaps being too empty, br in his way back might he at all br forget to carry him away -br br Rites Ghoshbr br