In the ashram at daylight,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy splendid symmetry?
In what distant dreams or desires
Burnt the fire in thine eyes?
Oh what fantasies dare you aspire?
How cold the water that quenches the fire?
And what shoulder, and what art?
Could twist the sinews of our heart?
And when our heart began to beat,
What happy heat, and what happy feat?
What the hammer? What the chain?
In what furnace was thy chest?
What the anvil? What dread grasp
Is thine chests clasp?
When the maidens swoon and fall at thy feet,
And worship the ground thy feet meet,
Did thy maidens all ask thee?
Will thy give kisses for free?
Chest! Chest! Shining bright,
In the ashram at daylight,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy splendid symmetry?