Monday, July 11, 2016

For that maid

For her would I often wait
She that village maid
Who would come to pick fruits
From the tree that by my window stood,
She would jump to get hold of the branch
Of the tree to pick mangoes hanging beautifully,
She would sing as she would run and hop
Around that tree where she would come to stop
Every summer only to pick mangoes ripe and yellowish slight,
And I would just her watch drenched by afternoon light,

For her I would wait the whole day
For her to come there at noons of April or May,
She would sometimes do a jig of a kind or dance,
Being in harmony of Nature's heavenly abundance,
She would sometimes make calls to birds Right there where I would wait for her, for hours,
She would there arrive like a fragrant flower,
And I would there wait for her to arrive like a song,
For her I would oft in summer afternoons long.

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