Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar,
Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?
Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far,
Before you agonise them in farewell?

Pale hands, pink-tipped, like lotus-buds that float
On those cool waters where we used to dwell,
I would have rather felt you round my throat
 [bad word] out life than waving me farewell!
Pale hands I love beside the shalimar,
Where are you now?
(poem: Laurence Hope)