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Raymond And Ida

Dearest, that sit'st in dreams,
Through the window look, this way.
How changed and desolate seems
The world, Ida, to-day!
Heavy and low the sky is glooming:
Winter is coming!
My dreaming heart is stirr'd:
Sadly the winter comes!
The wind is loud: how weird,
Heard in these darken'd rooms!
Speak to me, Raymond; ease this dread:
I am afraid, afraid.
Love, what is this? Like snow
Thy cheeks feel, snow they wear.
What ails my darling so?
What is it thou dost hear?
Close, close, thy soft arms cling to mine:
Tears on thy lashes shine.
Hark! love, the wind wails by
The wet October trees,
Swaying them mournfully:
The wet leaves shower and cease.
And hark! how blows the weary rain,
Against the shaken pane.
Ah, yes, the world is drear
Outside; there is no rest.
But what can Ida fear,
Shelter'd upon my breast?
Heed not the storm-blast, beating wild,
I love thee, love thee, child.
Thy breath is in my hair,
Thy kisses on my cheek;
Yet I scarce feel them there:
Faintly I hear thee speak.
My heart is dreaming far away,
In some sad, future day.
The future? In the mist
Of years what dost thou see?
O let that dark land rest:
Come back, come back to me!
Look up! How fix'd and vacant seem
Thine eyes; so deep they dream.
To leave the blessed light:
Cold in the grave to lie!
No voice, no human sight:
Darkness and apathy!
To die! 'tis hard, ere youth is o'er;
But ah, to love no more!
What dream is this, alas!
O, if but for my sake,
Wake, darling; let this pass:
Ida, dear Ida, wake!
I cannot bear to see those tears:
Thy sad tones hurt my ears.
Will he forget me, then,
When I am gone away?
'Twere best: to give him pain,
Let not my memory stay.
But O, even there, in Hades dim,
I would remember him.
Thou griev'st thyself in vain:
Sweet love, be comforted.
Come, leave this world of rain;
To the bright hearth turn thy head.
We have our fireside still, the same:
How cheerful is the flame!
Though darkness round us press;
Though wild, without, it blows;
Here sit thee, while thy face
In the happy firelight glows:
Clasp'd in my arms, lie tranquil here;
And listen, Ida dear.
As, from that outlook chill,
The glad hearth meets our sight,
A charm for every ill
We bear, a charm of might.
Ah, 'gainst its power not death shall stay!
Know'st thou it, darling, say?
Thou smilest! Joy, I see,
Dawns in thine eyes again:
Those cheeks of ivory
Their own sweet bloom regain.
Thou know'st that heavenly charm; how well,
Thy happy kisses tell!
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Submitted on August 03, 2020

2:30 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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    "Raymond And Ida" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 23 Jun 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/56112/raymond-and-ida>.

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