"Where the breaking forth of blossom on the yellow Keshra-sprays Dazzles like Kama’s sceptre, whom all the world obeys; And Patal-buds fill drowsy bees from pink delicious bowls, As Kama’s nectared goblet steeps in languor human souls; There he dances with the dancers, and of Radha thinketh none, All in the warm new Spring-tide, when none will live alone."