[21]

Though darkness round us press;

Though wild, without, it blows;

Here sit thee, while thy face

In the happy firelight glows:

Clasp'd in my arms, lie tranquil here;

And listen, Ida dear.

As, from that outlook chill,

The glad hearth meets our sight,

A charm for every ill

We bear, a charm of might.

Ah, 'gainst its power not death shall stay!

Know'st thou it, darling, say?

Thou smilest! Joy, I see,

Dawns in thine eyes again:

Those cheeks of ivory

Their own sweet bloom regain.

Thou know'st that heavenly charm; how well,

Thy happy kisses tell!

Manmohan Ghose.

 Prev. P 23/44 next