I am a small gold-digging ant
I am a small gold-digging ant
Trained in the school of prosody;
Quantity and accent I know,
They breathing in the word’s body.
If tons of amplest sense one holds,
Other music of mountain creeks;
Battle of heroes wins trophies,
From the lyre it’s the heart that speaks.
Hush blowing a conch for a call
Is dense topaz of quantity,
Winging lilts of magic’s whiteness
Swan’s flight of unflown ecstasy.
I am a black ant with sure will
Prompted to dig gold from new mines;
Stress and volume come together
And iamb with dactyl combines.
4 June 2026
Savitri Book Five Canto Three
I caught for some eternal eye the sudden
Kingfisher flashing to a darkling pool;
A slow swan silvering the azure lake,
A shape of magic whiteness, sailed through dream;
Leaves trembling with the passion of the wind
And wandering wings nearing from infinity
Lived on the tablets of my inner sight;
Mountains and trees stood there like thoughts from God. ||103.36||
A shape of magic whiteness


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