The temper of chums, the love of your wife, and a new piano's tune—
Which of the three will you trust at the end of an Indian June?
Who are the rulers of Ind—to whom shall we bow the knee?
Make your peace with the women, and men will make you L. G.
Does the woodpecker flit round the young ferash? Does grass clothe a new-built wall?
Is she under thirty the woman who holds a boy in her thrall?
If She grows suddenly gracious—reflect. Is it all for thee?
The blackbuck is stalked through the bullock, and Man through jealousy.
Seek not for favour of women. So shall you find it indeed.
Does not the boar break cover just when you're lighting a weed?