SHE DWELT HERE by the pool with its landing-stairs in ruins. Many an evening she had watched the moon made dizzy by the shaking of bamboo leaves, and on many a rainy day the smell of the wet earth had come to her over the young shoots of rice.
Her pet name is known here among those date-palm groves, and in the court-years where girls sit and talk, while stitching their winter quilts. The water in this pool keeps in its depth the memory of her swimming limbs, and her wet feet had left their marks, day after day, on the footpath leading to the village.
The women who come to-day with their vessels to the water, have all seen her smile over simple jests, and the old peasant, taking his bullocks to their bath, used to stop at her door every day to greet her.
Many a sailing boat passes by this village; many a traveller takes rest beneath that banyan tree; the ferry boat crosses to yonder ford carrying crowds to the market; but they never notice this spot by the village road, near the pool with its ruined landing-stairs,-where dwelt she whom I love.

IN THE DEEP shadows of the rainy July, with secret steps, thou walkest, silent as night, eluding all watchers.
To-day the morning has closed its eyes, heedless of the insistent calls of the loud east wind, and a thick veil has been drawn over the ever- wakeful blue sky.
The woodlands have hushed their songs, and doors are all shut at every house. Thou art the solitary wayfarer in this deserted street. Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house-do not pass by like a dream.

শুনিয়াছি নিম্নে তব, হে বিশ্বপাথার,
নাহি অন্ত মহামূল্য মণিমুকুতার।
নিশিদিন দেশে দেশে পন্ডিত ডুবারি
রত রহিয়াছে কত অন্বেষণে তারি।
তাহে মোর নাহি লোভ মহাপারাবার!
যে আলোক জ্বলিতেছে উপরে তোমার,
যে রহস্য দুলিতেছে তব বক্ষতলে,
যে মহিমা প্রসারিত তব নীল জলে,
যে সংগীত উঠে তব নিয়ত আঘাতে,
যে বিচিত্র লীলা তব মহানৃত্যে মাতে,
এ জগতে কভু তার অন্ত যদি জানি,
চিরদিনে কভু তাহে শ্রান্তি যদি মানি,
তোমার অতলমাঝে ডুবিব তখন
যেথায় রতন আছে অথবা মরণ।