Sit and watch, sit and watch
Till it comes for you: a tiny tune
With a tilted hat and sad moustache
And crimson heart hastily sewn
Upon the sleeve. Do receive
Its clumsy fingers in your own;
Lend it a small rhyme to weave
Dancing rain in autumn-blown
Branches, pavements, cloudy streets;
Rise and take it by the hand,
Twirl it round to the beat
And play it with a marching band.
4 comments:
Apni amake chinben na. Ar amio bishesh chini na. Blog roll korte korte ekhane eshe pouchano hoyeche :) ar comment er jonye dhonyobaad deben na. Lokeder lekha porchi, bhaloi lagche :)
through the far marches of acres wild?
thisisossom.
Very nice. Very.
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