A Thrill, A Thrill, A Thrill, -She Is Poem by Subrata Ray

She came again and again,
She came even in the night,
To spread her heart through,
And through, over my plight.

She laid her eye sight upon my shadow,
And cast her feelings, through out the meadow,
She sent her echoing feet, as I traveled wearied
In my fatigue, stirred she in me, her Arabian. steed.

In my deserted blinds, while like an waif I cry,
A moaned face, deprived of all grace, I lie,
She functioned her omnipresence, as if coming by,
With showers vital, green-tidal, nourishing enhance high.

Mine, she knew a love-sick, weak to the bone,
A king in dream, in reality a vagrant buffoon.
Hers is a charming mystery, as I could read her deal,
A thrill, a thrill, a thrill –she is, as the feeling feels.