"Mark this song of Jayadev! Deep as pearl in ocean-wave Lurketh in its lines a wonder Which the wise alone will ponder: Though it's seemeth of the Earth, Heavenly is the music's birth; Telling darkly of delights In the wood, of wasted nights, Of witless days, and fruitless love, And false pleasures of the grove,And rash passions of the prime, And those dances of Spring-time; Time, which seems so subtle-sweet, Time, which pipes to dancing-feet, Ah! So softly -- Ah! So sweetly -- That among those wood-maids featly Krishna cannot choose but dance, Letting pass life's greater chance."