The Royal Tombs Of Golconda

 I MUSE among these silent fanes 
Whose spacious darkness guards your dust; 
Around me sleep the hoary plains 
That hold your ancient wars in trust.
 

I pause, my dreaming spirit hears, 
Across the wind's unquiet tides, 
The glimmering music of your spears, 
The laughter of your royal brides.
 

In vain, O Kings, doth time aspire 
To make your names oblivion's sport, 
While yonder hill wears like a tier 
The ruined grandeur of your fort.
 

Though centuries falter and decline, 
Your proven strongholds shall remain 
Embodied memories of your line, 
Incarnate legends of your reign.
 

O Queens, in vain old Fate decreed 
Your flower-like bodies to the tomb; 
Death is in truth the vital seed 
Of your imperishable bloom 

Each new-born year the bulbuls sing 
Their songs of your renascent loves; 
Your beauty wakens with the spring 
To kindle these pomegranate groves.

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