THE INDIAN GIPSY
In tattered1 robes that hoard2 a glittering trace Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee, Behold3 her, daughter of a wandering race, Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile4 grace, And the lithe5 tiger's sinuous6 majesty7.
With frugal8 skill her simple wants she tends, She folds her tawny9 heifers and her sheep On lonely meadows when the daylight ends, Ere the quick night upon her flock descends10 Like a black panther from the caves of sleep.
Time's river winds in foaming11 centuries Its changing, swift, irrevocable course To far off and incalculable seas; She is twin-born with primal12 mysteries, And drinks of life at Time's forgotten source.