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A Dream

Thou who hast follow'd far with eyes of love
The shy and virgin sights of Spring to-day,
Sad soul, what dost thou in this happy grove?
Hast thou no pipe to touch, no strain to play,
Where Nature smiles so fair and seems to ask a lay?

Ah! she needs none! she is too beautiful.
How should I sing her? for my heart would tire,
Seeking a lovelier verse each time to cull,
In striving still to pitch my music higher:
Lovelier than any muse is she who gives the fire!

No impulse I beseech; my strains are vile:
To escape thee, Nature, restless here I rove.
Look not so sweet on me, avert thy smile!
O cease at length this fever'd breast to move!
I have loved thee in vain; I cannot speak my love.

Here sense with apathy seems gently wed:
The gloom is starr'd with flowers; the unseen trees
Spread thick and softly real above my head;
And the far birds add music to the peace,
In this dark place of sleep, where whispers never cease.

Hush, then, my pipe; vain is thy passion here;
Vain is the burning bosom of desire!
Forever hush'd, let me this silence hear,
As a sad Muse in the melodious choir
Hushes her voice, to catch the happier voices by her.

Deep-shaded will I lie, and deeper yet
In night, where not a leaf its neighbour knows;
Forget the shining of the stars, forget
The vernal visitation of the rose;
And, far from all delights, prepare my heart's repose.

Strive how I may, I cannot slumber so:
Still burns that sleepless beauty on the mind;
Still insupportable those visions glow;
And hark! my spirit's aspirations find
An answer in the leaves, a warning on the wind.

'O crave not silence thou! too soon, too sure,
Shall Autumn come, and through these branches weep:
Soon birds shall cease, and flowers no more endure;
And thou beneath the mould unwilling creep,
And silent soon shalt be in that eternal sleep.

'Green still it is, where that fair goddess strays;
Then follow, till around thee all be sere.
Lose not a vision of her passing face;
Nor miss the sound of her soft robes, that here
Sweep over the wet leaves of the fast-falling year.'
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Submitted on August 03, 2020

1:58 min read

Manmohan Ghose

Manmohan Ghose was an Indian poet and one of the first from India to write poetry in English. He was the son of Dr Krishna Dhan Ghose and his wife, Swarnalata Basu. His younger brother was Aurobindo Ghose, the politician and spiritual leader. He was educated at Manchester Grammar School, St Paul's school in London and won an open scholarship to Christ Church, Oxford. His work was published in Primavera:Poems by Four Authors, with Laurence Binyon, Arthur S. Cripps, and Stephen Phillips. Ghose later met Oscar Wilde at the Fitzroy Street Settlement, who reviewed Primavera in Pall Mall Gazette, with particular favour towards Ghose. During this time in London Ghose met many other members of the "Rhymers' Club" set such as Lionel Johnson, Ernest Dowson, who were both very fond of him. In 1893, after his father's death, Ghose returned to India and took a series of teaching posts at Patna, Bankipur, and Calcutta. In 1897 he was appointed Assistant Professor of Dacca College. After the death of his wife Malati Banerjee in 1918, his health deteriorated and he aged prematurely. For 30 years Ghose had cherished the dream of returning to England and even booked a passage along with his daughter in March 1924, but after a short illness on 4 January 1924 he died in Calcutta. more…

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