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AN EVENING WALK IN BENGAL.
Resounds like sylvan revelry;
Enough, enough, the rustling trees
And we must early sleep to find
LINES WRITTEN TO HIS WIFE,
WHILE ON A VISIT TO UPPER
If thou wert by my side, my love,
How fast would evening fail
Listening the nightingale.
If thou, my love, wert by my side,
My babies at my knee,
O’er Gunga's mimic sea.
I miss thee at the dawning gray,
When, on our deck reclined,
And woo the cooler wind.
I miss thee when by Gunga's stream
My twilight steps I guide, But most beneath the lamp's pale beam,
I miss thee from my side.
I spread my books, my pencil try,
The lingering noon to cheer, But miss thy kind approving eye,
Thy meek attentive ear.
But when of morn and eve the star
Beholds me on my knee,
Thy prayers ascend for me.
Then on--then on; where duty leads,
My course be onward still,
O'er black Almorah's hill.
That course nor Delhi's kingly gates,
Nor mild Malwah detain,
By yonder western main.
Thy towers, Bombay,gleam bright, they say,
Across the dark blue sea,
As then shall meet in thee.
One inorning in the month of May
I wandered o'er the hill ; Though nature all around was gay,
My heart was heavy still.
Can God, I thought, the just, the great,
These meaner creatures bless, And yet deny to man's estate
The boon of happiness ?
Tell me, ye woods, ye smiling plains,
Ye blessed birds around,
Can bliss for man be found.
The birds wild carolled over head,
The breeze around me blew, And nature's awful chorus said
No bliss for man she knew.