THE RIVER is grey and the air dazed with blown sand.
        On a morning of dark disquiet, when the birds are mute and their nests shake in the gust, I sit alone and ask myself, 'Where is she?'
        The days have flown wherein we sat too near each other; we laughed and jested, and the awe of love's majesty found no words at our meetings.
        I made myself small, and she trifled away every moment with pelting talk.
To-day I wish in vain that she were by me, in the gloom of the coming storm, to sit in the soul's solitude.

YOUR DAYS WILL be full of cares, if you must give me your heart. My house by the cross-roads has its doors open and my mind is absent,-for I sing.
I shall never be made to answer for it, if you must give me your heart. If I pledge my word to you in tunes now, and am too much in earnest to keep it when music is silent, you must forgive me; for the law laid in May is best broken in December.
Do not always keep remembering it, if you must give me your heart. When your eyes sing with love, and your voice ripples with laughter, my answers to your questions will be wild, and not miserly accurate in facts,- they are to be believed for ever and then forgotten for good.

       আমার পাচকবর গদাধর মিশ্র,
       তারি ঘরে দেখি মোর কুন্তলবৃষ্য।
            কহিনু তাহারে ডেকে,--
            'এ শিশিটা এনেছে কে,
       শোভন করিতে চাও হেঁশেলের দৃশ্য?'
            সে কহিল, 'বরিষার
            এই ঋতু; সরিষার
            কহে, 'কাঠমুণ্ডার
            নেপালের গুণ্ডার
    এই তেলে কেটে যায় জঠরের গ্রীষ্ম।
লোকমুখে শুনেছি তো, রাজা-গোলকুণ্ডার
    এই সাত্ত্বিক তেলে পূজার হবিষ্য।
         আমি আর তাঁরা সবে চরকের শিষ্য।'