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Once there bloomed upon a meadow Roses, violets, flow'rs of grace. The gods from urns poured nectared beauty On the meadow's up-turned face. Hanging vines and branches wove Canopies of gold and shade Through which the sky serenely peeped And gentle breezes humming strayed. The bulbul sang of only love; Nature listened in delight — I felt joy rise in my breast; Thrilled at the beauty of the sight. Captivated by the place The morrow found me there again... But alas! the scene was changed And horror petrified my brain. The violets and roses were Lovely; though the bulbul's song Was as musical and sweet, Yet my heart in pain was wrung! Stunned, I saw a sight that made me Wish my seeing eyes were blind... Stagnant vapours and black snakes About the flower stems were twined. |
