যে বন্ধুরে আজও দেখি নাই
      তাহারই বিরহে ব্যথা পাই।

I HAVE LOOKED on this picture in many a month of March when the mustard is in bloom-this lazy line of the water and the grey of the sand beyond, the rough path along the river-bank carrying the comradeship of the field into the heart of the village.
        I have tried to capture in rhyme the idle whistle of the wind, the beat of the oar-strokes from a passing boat
        I have wondered in my mind how simply it stands before me, this great world: with what fond and familiar ease it fills my heart, this encounter with the Eternal Stranger.

IN THE DROWSY dark caves of the mind
dreams build their nest with fragment
dropped from day's caravan.