He sought her for his bride, but waited long,
For princes cannot wed like common folk--
Friends called, a feast prepared, some bridal gifts,
Some tears at parting and some solemn vows,
Rice scattered, slippers thrown with noisy mirth,
And common folk are joined till death shall part.
Till death shall part! O faithless, cruel thought!
Death ne'er shall part souls joined by holy love,
Who through life's trials, joys and cares
Have to each other clung, faithful till death,
Tender and true in sickness and in health,
Bearing each other's burdens, sharing griefs,
Lightening each care and heightening every joy.
Such life is but a transient honeymoon,
A feeble foretaste of eternal joys.
But princes when they love, though all approve,
Must wait on councils, embassies and forms.
But how the coach of state lumbers and lags
With messages of love whose own light wings
Glide through all bars, outstrip all fleetest things--
No bird so light, no thought so fleet as they.
But while the prince chafed at the long delay,
The sweet Yasodhara began to feel
The bitter pangs of unrequited love.
But her young hands, busy with others' wants,
And her young heart, busy with others' woes,
With acts of kindness filled the lagging hours,
Best of all medicines for aching hearts.
Yet often she would seek a quiet nook
Deep in the park, where giant trees cross arms,
Making high gothic arches, and a shade
That noonday's fiercest rays could scarcely pierce,
And there alone with her sad heart communed:
"Yes! I have kept it for the giver's sake,
But he has quite forgot his love, his gift, and me.
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