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Index of First Lines
A bare impersonal hush is now my mind
A conscious and eternal Power is here
A deep enigma is the soul of man
A dumb Inconscient drew life's stumbling maze
A face on the cold dire mountain peaks
A far sail on the unchangeable monotone . . .
A flame-wind ran from the gold of the east
A godhead moves us to unrealised things
A gold moon-raft floats and swings slowly
A golden evening, when the thoughtful sun
A life of intensities wide, immune
A naked and silver-pointed star
A noon of Deccan with its tyrant glare
A perfect face amid barbarian faces
A strong son of lightning came down . . .
A tree beside the sandy river-beach
A trifling unit in a boundless plan
After six hundred years did Fate intend
After unnumbered steps of a hill-stair
All are deceived, do what the One Power dictates
All here is Spirit self-moved eternally
All is abolished but the mute Alone
All is not finished in the unseen decree
All my cells thrill swept by a surge of splendour
All Nature is taught in radiant ways to move
All sounds, all voices have become Thy voice
An irised multitude of hills and seas
Arise now, tread out the fire
Arise, tread out the fire
Arisen to voiceless unattainable peaks
Aroused from Matter's sleep when Nature strove
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Artist of cosmos wrapped in thy occult shadow
As some bright archangel in vision flies
At last I find a meaning of soul's birth
At the way's end when the shore raised up . . .
Awake, awake, O sleeping men of Troy
Because Thou art All-beauty and All-bliss
Because thy flame is spent, shall mine grow less
Behold, by Maya's fantasy of will
Bride of the Fire, clasp me now close
Brilliant, crouching, slouching . . .
Bugles of Light, bugles of Light . . .
Child of the infant years, Euphrosyne
Cool may you find the youngling grass, my herd
Councillors, friends, Rai Bahadoors and others
Cry of the ocean's surges . . .
Dawn in her journey eternal . . .
Day and night begin, you tell me
Death wanders through our lives at will . . .
Do you remember, Love, that sunset pale
Each sight is now immortal with Thy bliss
Flame that invadest my empire of sorrow . . .
From the quickened womb of the primal gloom
"Glory and greatness and the joy of life
God to thy greatness
Goddess, supreme Mother of Dream . . .
Gold-white wings a throb in the vastness . . .
Hail to the fallen, the fearless . . .
Hark in the trees the low-voiced nightingale
He is in me, round me, facing everywhere
He said, "I am egoless, spiritual, free,"
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Hearken, Ganges, hearken . . .
Here in the green of the forest . . .
How hast thou lost, O month of honey . . .
However long Night's hour, I will not dream
I am a single Self all Nature fills
I am filled with the crash of war . . .
I am greater than the greatness of the seas
I am held no more by life's alluring cry
I am swallowed in a foam-white sea of bliss
I am the bird of God in His blue
I cannot equal those most absolute eyes
I contain the wide world in my soul's embrace
I dreamed that in myself the world I saw
I dwell in the spirit's calm nothing can move
I face earth's happenings with an equal soul
I have a doubt, I have a doubt which kills
I have a hundred lives before me yet
I have become what before Time I was
I have discovered my deep deathless being
I have drunk deep of God's own liberty
I have gathered my dreams in a silver air
I have sailed the golden ocean
I have thrown from me the whirling dance of mind
I have wrapped the wide world in my wider self
I heard a foghorn shouting at a sheep
I heard the coockcouck jabbering on the lea
I housed within my heart the life of things
I look across the world and no horizon . . .
I looked for Thee alone, but met my glance
I made an assignation with the Night
I made danger my helper and chose pain . . .
I passed into a lucent still abode
I sat behind the dance of Danger's hooves
I saw my soul a traveller through Time
I saw the electric stream on which is run
I shall not die
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I walked beside the waters of a world of light
I walked on the high-wayed Seat of Solomon
If I had wooed thee for thy colour rare
If now must pause the bullocks' jingling tune
If perfect moments on the peak of things
If thou wouldst traverse Time with vagrant feet
Immense retreats of silence and of gloom
Immortal, moveless, calm, alone, august
In a flaming as of spaces
In a mounting as of sea-tides . . .
In a town of gods, housed in a little shrine
In Bagdad by Euphrates, Asia's river
In gleam Konarak — Konarak of the Gods
In god-years yet unmeasured by a man's thought . . .
In Manipur upon her orient hills
In occult depths grow Nature's roots unshown
In some faint dawn
In the blue of the sky, in the green of the forest
In the ending of time, in the sinking of space
In the silence of the midnight . . .
In the silence of the night-time
In us is the thousandfold Spirit who is one
In woodlands of the bright and early world
Into the Silence, into the Silence
Is this the end of all that we have been
Life, death, — death, life; the words . . .
Light, endless Light! darkness has room no more
Like a white statue made of lilies
Lone on my summits of calm . . .
Lorsque rein n'existait, l'amour existait
Love, a moment drop thy hands
Love, but my words are vain as air
Many boons the new years make us
Me whom the purple mead that Bromius owns
Moulded of twilight and the vesper star
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Mute stands she, lonely on the topmost stair
My breath runs in a subtle rhythmic stream
My life is then a wasted ereme
My life is wasted like a lamp ablaze
My mind, my soul grow larger than all Space
My soul arose at dawn and, listening, heard
My soul regards its veiled subconscient base
My way is over the Moro river
Mystic daughter of Delight
Nala, Nishadha's king, paced by a stream
Nala, Nishadha's king, paced by a stream
Not in annihilation lost, nor given
Not soon is God's delight in us completed
Now I have borne Thy presence and Thy light
Now lilies blow upon the windy height
Now more and more the Epiphany within
O Boers, you have dared much and much endured
O coïl, honied envoy of the spring
O desolations vast, O seas of space
O face that I have loved until no face
O grey wild sea
O heart, my heart, a heavy pain is thine
O immense Light and thou . . .
O joy of gaining all the soul's desire
O lady Venus, shine on me
O letter dull and cold, how can she read
O Life, thy breath is but a cry to the Light
O love, what more shall I, shall Radha speak
O pale and guiding light, now star unsphered
O pall of black Night painted with still gold stars
O plaintive, murmuring reed, begin thy strain
O soul who com'st fire-mantled from the earth
O thou golden image
O Thou of whom I am the instrument
O Will of God that stirrest and the Void
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O Word concealed in the upper fire
O worshipper of the formless Infinite
O ye Powers of the Supreme . . .
Ocean is there and evening; the slow moan
Of Ilion's ashes was thy sceptre made
Of Spring is her name for whose bud . . .
Often, in the slow ages' wide retreat
Oh, but fair was her face as she lolled . . .
On a dire whirlpool in the hurrying river
On the grey street and the lagging . . .
On the waters of a nameless Infinite
On the white summit of eternity
Once again thou hast climbed, O moon . . .
One day, and all the half-dead is done
One dreamed and saw a gland write Hamlet . . .
Out from the Silence, out from the Silence
Out of a seeming void and dark-winged sleep
Out of a still immensity we came
Outspread a Wave burst, a Force leaped . . .
Pale poems, weak and few, who vainly use
Patriots, behold your guerdon. This man found
Perfect thy motion ever within me
Poet, who first with skill inspired did teach
Pururavus from converse held with Gods
Pururavus from Titan conflict ceased
Pythian he came; repressed beneath his heel
Rishi who trance-held on the mountains old
Rose, I have loved thy beauty, as I love
Rose of God, vermilion stain . . .
Rushing from Troy like a cloud on the plains . . .
Seer deep-hearted, divine king of the secrecies
She in her garden, near the high grey wall
Silence is all, say the sages
Silence is round me, wideness ineffable
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Silver foam in the dim East
Since I have seen your face at the window, sweet
Since Thou hadst all eternity to amuse
Snow in June may break from Nature
So that was why I could not grasp your heart
Sole in the meadows of Thebes Teiresias sat . . .
Someone leaping from the rocks
Soul in the Ignorance, wake from its stupor
Soul, my soul, reascend over the edge of life
Soul, my soul, yet ascend crossing the marge of life
Sounds of the wakening world, the year's increase
Spirit Supreme
Stamp out, stamp out the sun from the high blue
Still there is something that I lack in thee
Strayed from the roads of Time . . .
Suddenly out from the wonderful East . . .
Sur les grands sommets blancs . . .
Surely I take no more an earthly food
Sweet is the night, sweet and cool
The clouds lain on forlorn spaces of sky . . .
The day ends lost in a stretch of even
The electron on which forms and worlds are built
The grey sea creeps half-visible, half-hushed
The mind of a man
The repetition of thy gracious years
The seven mountains and the seven seas
There are two beings in my single self
There is a brighter ether than this blue
There is a godhead of unrealised things
There is a kingdom of the spirit's ease
There is a silence greater than any known
There is a wisdom like a brooding Sun
There was an awful awful man
These wanderings of the suns, these stars at play
This body which was once my universe
This puppet ego the World-Mother made
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This strutting "I" of human self and pride
Thou art myself born from myself, O child
Thou bright choregus of the heavenly dance
Thou didst mistake, thy spirit's infant flight
Thou who controllest the wide-spuming Ocean . . .
Thou who pervadest all the worlds below
Thy golden Light came down into my brain
Thy tears fall fast, O mother, on its bloom
Thy youth is but a noon, of night take heed
To the hill-tops of silence . . .
To weep because a glorious sun has set
Torn are the walls and the borders carved . . .
Two measures are there of the cosmic dance
Under the high and gloomy eastern hills
Vain, they have said, is the anguish of man . . .
Vast-winged the wind ran, violent . . .
Vision delightful alone on the hills . . .
Voice of the summits, leap from thy peaks . . .
What is this talk of slayer and of slain
What mighty and ineffable desire
What opposites are here! A trivial life
What points ascending Nature to her goal
When in the heart of the valleys and hid . . .
When the heart tires and the throb stills recalling
Where is the man whom hope nor fear can move
"Where is the end of your armoured march . . .
Where Time a sleeping dervish is
Who art thou in the heart comrade of man . . .
Who art thou that camest
Who art thou that roamest
Who was it that came to me in a boat . . .
Why do thy lucid eyes survey
Wild river in thy cataract far-rumoured . . .
Winged with dangerous deity
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With wind and the weather beating round me
World's delight, spring's sweetness, music's charm
Ye weeping poplars by the shelvy slope
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