MY WORLD, when I was a child, you were a little girl-neighbour, a loving timid stranger. Then you grew bold and talked to me across the fence, offering me toys and flowers and shells. Next you coaxed me away from my work, you tempted me into the land of the dusk or the weedy corner of some garden in mid-day loneliness. At length you told me stories about bygone times, with which the present ever longs to meet so as to be rescued from its prison in the moment.
HAVE YOU NOT heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever comes. Every moment and every age, every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes. Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their notes have always proclaimed, 'He comes, comes, ever comes.' In the fragrant days of sunny April through the forest path he comes, comes, ever comes. In the rainy gloom of July nights on the thundering chariot of clouds he comes, comes, ever comes. In sorrow after sorrow it is his steps that press upon my heart, and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes my joy to shine.
আদর ক'রে মেয়ের নাম রেখেছে ক্যালিফর্নিয়া, গরম হল বিয়ের হাট ঐ মেয়েরই দর নিয়া। মহেশদাদা খুঁজিয়া গ্রামে গ্রামে পেয়েছে ছেলে ম্যাসাচুসেট্স্ নামে, শাশুড়ি বুড়ি ভীষণ খুশি নামজাদা সে বর নিয়া-- ভাটের দল চেঁচিয়ে মরে নামের গুণ বর্ণিয়া।
