Deity of the ruined temple! The broken strings of Vina sing no more your praise. The bells in the evening proclaim not your time of worship. The air is still and silent about you.
 
In your desolate dwelling comes the vagrant spring breeze. It brings the tidings of flowers---the flowers that for your worship are offered no more.
 
Your worshipper of old wanders ever longing for favour still refused. In the eventide, when fires and shadows mi............