Elegiac Notes Poem by Narayan Hore

'With ye, my dear, what tumult dare suppress,
What mountainous valleys journeys disturb?
To what breaking limits the dismal press? '
Loud saith he, as we prepared to curb

That day, whilst the clouds thundered with rain,
Night's darkening sky like monsters prancing
The visage of forests- beyond lies the Main,
Where can be overheard Oceans dancing
And adversities more- the snow capped peak,
The silver smeared beauty through those woods bleak,
But while the clouds clapped beneath the Heaven,
Seen not one hope save one retreating raven,
We thought and thought of that freedom unseen,
Yet moved not an inch, for the moon would not gleam.