The Ideal Virgin, -Dedicted To Arpita Samanta. Poem by Subrata Ray

The Ideal Virgin.

My virgin spring is all but mystic,
And casts wild look in her glamor,
An wink from her abstract vigor,
Rises my forest birds in clamor.

While my dreams covet her grace,
The lyre adds note after note,
And nothing I could grasp of her Being,
Save the grandeur of an Empress.

Her presence opens the remotest oracles,
Amidst the shadowy beacon light,
Alloyed images of Truth and Beauty,
Circle round Her eternal sight.

Melodious fragrance fountains from Her 3rd eye,
More of the rarest amber does emit,
And the Prince of the Himalaya in His meditative deep,
Seeks Her glimpse, if her Highness visits the retreat.