By Michael Madhusudhan Dutt
Lo! sweet was the hour – and balmy shower of rain,
Revived the drooping beauties of each flowery mead and plain
Like tyrants, bereft of their power, as they fly,
The proud scorching sun was retiring in the sky –
And tuneful zephyr warbled his heart entrancing song,
And sighed, as he wandered yon green groves among
when gladly I met her beneath yon almond tree,
(Oh sacred as Elysium be its happy shades to me!)
There I kissed and embraced her; and Oh! – who can tell
What passions tumultuous did in my bosom swell!
What tears joy-speaking rushed forth from my eyes,
They bathed her snowy hands – while I warmed them with my sighs!
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