Thoughts
When midnight hours know not the peace of sleep
But drudge in trembling hope for envied fame,
In ghostly solitude before a flame
Of glimmering light, whose sombre rays out-peep
To view the city wrapped in silence deep,
Midst weird and darkly waving groves of palm;
When wizard clocks ring out and rend the calm
With strides of Time—their thrilling voices creep
Along the soul; my mind with labour worn,
Or grappling with a knot, delights to stand
In stillness, yearning forth to clasp with love
Thy beauteous form—and then, Spring opes above!
With blossom’d flow’r and chirping bird, the land
Smiles ’neath the sunlit hues the heavens adorn!
P. Seshadri.