Ode On Rain Poem by Pijush Biswas

Thy bless may not come disguise; I believe
Out, on field, thou mesmerize-
Close to mind thou spread beams, before the eve
To such a moon 'tself doth resize
And happier than men
Nothing can appear, when
All subject and property seem spared
Declaring how trust should rescue
In scorching sun, frown of fire, appeared.

Thou, the matured relief of summer,
Fain material of my verse,
Free and cognate being, thou must not mar
Of whom pity uncareth large
Lives and deaths 'betwixt, and
Where shadows extend hand;
Thou art such a Finch soars high up the skies-
Linguistical; much than view!
For end of thorough suppression release.

Thou, wanting fairly to be condensed, come
Prettier than I, who welfare-
Fine in condolence, divine Ganges' home!
To swains whom thou care and must spare.
Thou, fill the yellow plain
With the entwinning grain!
Having it been done, tonight, I must hymn
Being flow'd by happy days' hue
Which may allure a dead in lithic rhyme.

It must appear that the idle kings die,
Despairs, the kings of 'indolence'
May'st these come on thee thoughtfully to lie;
Thou art ingenious to Earth, forth-hence
Not unspirited to gale
Nor unraptured, nor pale,
Always repeated in complexity;
Deep in Nature, where sea lives too
Must come thy bossom, beside the city.

Thou art not mean as to be declaimer
Of far-going famine, today
Thou art historical, while no a bar
Could supress Ayodhya; on way,
Of Sarayu, while flow
Water 'tween high and low.
And sorting by Nature has a gay play
Some as a tie, some as a rue
And grains of sand, a premium, that lay.

The high land hills, the low land plain, together
Resting in fruitfulness, avow
Thee; I fear if I could not by thee near
Life had not a mast that can blow;
Thou art father of ground,
Soaked in conquer sound-
Hint, a winning o'er heat, strain, and press.
Our best friends are those who some glue
And mysterious beautiful! impress!









COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS
12/02/2016