clouds spout upon her

    their waters
amain

    in ruthless
disdain, –

her who but lately

    had shivered with
pain

as at touch of dishonour

if there had lit on her

so coldly, so straightly

    such arrows of
rain:

 

one who to shelter

    her delicate head

would quicken and quicken

    each tentative
tread

if drops chanced to pelt her

    that summertime
spills

    in dust-paven
rills

when thunder-clouds thicken

    and birds close
their bills.

 

would that i lay there

    and she were
housed here!

or better, together

were folded away there

exposed to one weather

we both, – who would stray there

when sunny the day there,

    or evening was
clear

    at the prime of
the year.

 

soon will be growing

    green blades from
her mound,

and daisies be showing

    like stars on the
ground,

till she form part of them –

ay – the sweet heart of them,

loved beyond measure

with a child’s pleasure

    all her life’s
round.

 

Advertisements

Comments are closed.

Blog at WordPress.com.

INDIAN BY DESIGN

Indian Design. Indian Art. Indian Architecture. Indian Graphic Design

%d bloggers like this: