A Passage To Her Poetry. Poem by Subrata Ray

A Passage To Her Poetry.

In his primrose-path,
A Lily from uncertain vase,
Cast a catching grace,
And her youthful wild,
Hinted at Nature's profile.

Like so many dream-eyed gallants,
As he, you and me, were induced,
Bewitched, and fused a while,
Unable to read the willow will.

Some diggers growing wise by Fat.
Haggardly loitered at profaned gates,
From times immemorial perpetuates the state,
And happy willed slaves invite graves!

Hers is a phantasmagoria,
And she is the source of echoing instinct,
To man a fountain-head of illusion's Spring,
The reeds of harmonium flute at her winks.