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FOLK TALES FROM TIBET.
LOVE SONG.
Could I but win the maiden
For whom my heart doth pine,
I'd prize her as a jewel
From depths of ocean brine.
I'd guard her fragrant body,
Like white turquoise so rare.
My wanderings all behind me,
I'd know no earthly care.
As luscious fruit well ripened,
Hangs tempting on the tree;
So is thy beauty, maiden,
Temptation sore to me.
From longing for thy beauty,
How can I sleep at night?
By day I seek thee vainly,
My heart is tired quite.
Printed by The Chapel River Press, Kingston, Surrey.
