Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/55

The afternoon has come and gone
And brought no change;—should she rejoice?
The gentle evening's shades come on,
When hark!—She hears her husband's voice!

"The twilight is most beautiful!
Mother, to gather fruit I go,
And fuel,—for the air is cool
Expect me in an hour or so."
"The night, my child, draws on apace,"
The mother's voice was heard to say,
"The forest paths are hard to trace
In darkness,—till the morrow stay."
"Not hard for me, who can discern
The forest-paths in any hour,
Blindfold I could with ease return,
And day has not yet lost its power."

"He goes then," thought Savitri, "thus
With unseen bands Fate draws us on
Unto the place appointed us;
We feel no outward force,—anon
We go to marriage or to death
At a determined time and place;
We are her playthings; with her breath
She blows us where she lists in space.