Tales of Ind And Other Poems By: T. Ramakrishna
First Page: TALES OF IND AND OTHER POEMS BY T. RAMAKRISHNA 1896 TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR DAUGHTER KAMALA. The star that rose to cheer our humble life, And make a little heaven of our home, Shall rise again yes, surely rise again To give us everlasting joy divine. CONTENTS. TO MY DAUGHTER LORD TENNYSON SEETA AND RAMA A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE THE STORY OF PRINCE DÉSING THE STORY OF RUDRA THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS CHANDRA A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKÓTA THE KORATHY'S LULLABY LORD TENNYSON. A poet of my native land has said The life the good and virtuous lead on earth Is like the black eyed maiden of the East, Who paints the lids to look more bright and fair. The eyes may smart and water, but withal She loves to please them that behold her face. E'en so, my Master, thine own life has been. Thy songs have pleased the world, thy thoughts divine Have purified, likewise ennobled man. And what are they, those songs and thoughts divine, But sad experience of thy life, dipt deep In thine own tears, and traced on nature's page? To please and teach the world for two dear ones You mourned a friend in youth, a son in age 'Tis said the life that gives one moment's joy To one lone mortal is not lived in vain; But lives like thine God grants as shining lights That we in darkness Him aright may see. Nay more, such lives the more by ills beset Do shine the more and better teach His ways. Alas! thou'rt gone that wert so kind to one Obscure a stranger in a distant land. Accept from him this wreath uncouth of words Which do but half express the grief he feels. SEETA AND RAMA . A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE. It was by far the loveliest scene in Ind: A deep sunk lonely vale, 'tween verdant hills That, in eternal friendship, seemed to hold Communion with the changing skies above; Dark shady groves the haunts of shepherd boys And wearied peasants in the midday noon; A lake that shone in lustre clear and bright Like a pure Indian diamond set amidst Green emeralds, where every morn, with songs Of parted lovers that tempted blooming maids With pitchers on their heads to stay and hear Those songs, the busy villagers of the vale Their green fields watered that gave them sure hopes Of future plenty and of future joys. Oh, how uncertain man's sure hopes and joys! In this enchanted hollow that was scooped For so it seemed by God's own mighty hand, Where Nature shower'd her richest gifts to make Another paradise, stood Krishnapore With her two score and seven huts reared by The patient labour of her simple men. In this blest hamlet one there was that owned Its richest lands: beloved by all its men, Their friend in times of need, their guide in life, Partaker of their joys and woes as well, The arbiter of all their petty strifes. By him his friend the village master lived That at his door a group of children taught; A man he was well versed in ancient lore; And oft at night, when ended was their toil, The villagers with souls enraptured heard him In fiery accents speak of Krishna's deeds And Rama's warlike skill, and wondered that He knew so well the deities they adored. One only daughter this schoolmaster had, And Seeta was her name, the prettiest maid In all the village, nursed by the fond cares Of her indulgent sire, and loved with all The tender feelings that pure love inspires By the rich villager's only son, the heir Of all his father's wealth; the best at school, The boldest of the village youths at play, And the delight of all those that saw him; And these seemed such a fitting pair that oft The secret whisper round the village ran That Seeta was to wed the rich man's son. Thus, in this Eden, its blest inmates lived And passed their days, the villagers at the fields, Their busy women at the blazing hearths, The village master at his cottage door, And Rama and fair Seeta in true love... Continue reading book >>

Tales of Ind And Other Poems By: T. Ramakrishna

First Page:

TALES OF IND

AND OTHER POEMS

T. RAMAKRISHNA

1896

TO THE MEMORY OF MY DEAR DAUGHTER KAMALA.

The star that rose to cheer our humble life, And make a little heaven of our home, Shall rise again yes, surely rise again To give us everlasting joy divine.

CONTENTS.

TO MY DAUGHTER

LORD TENNYSON

SEETA AND RAMA A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE

THE STORY OF PRINCE DÉSING

THE STORY OF RUDRA

THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS

CHANDRA A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKÓTA

THE KORATHY'S LULLABY

LORD TENNYSON.

A poet of my native land has said The life the good and virtuous lead on earth Is like the black eyed maiden of the East, Who paints the lids to look more bright and fair. The eyes may smart and water, but withal She loves to please them that behold her face. E'en so, my Master, thine own life has been. Thy songs have pleased the world, thy thoughts divine Have purified, likewise ennobled man. And what are they, those songs and thoughts divine, But sad experience of thy life, dipt deep In thine own tears, and traced on nature's page? To please and teach the world for two dear ones You mourned a friend in youth, a son in age 'Tis said the life that gives one moment's joy To one lone mortal is not lived in vain; But lives like thine God grants as shining lights That we in darkness Him aright may see. Nay more, such lives the more by ills beset Do shine the more and better teach His ways. Alas! thou'rt gone that wert so kind to one Obscure a stranger in a distant land. Accept from him this wreath uncouth of words Which do but half express the grief he feels.

SEETA AND RAMA .

A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE.

It was by far the loveliest scene in Ind: A deep sunk lonely vale, 'tween verdant hills That, in eternal friendship, seemed to hold Communion with the changing skies above; Dark shady groves the haunts of shepherd boys And wearied peasants in the midday noon; A lake that shone in lustre clear and bright Like a pure Indian diamond set amidst Green emeralds, where every morn, with songs Of parted lovers that tempted blooming maids With pitchers on their heads to stay and hear Those songs, the busy villagers of the vale Their green fields watered that gave them sure hopes Of future plenty and of future joys. Oh, how uncertain man's sure hopes and joys! In this enchanted hollow that was scooped For so it seemed by God's own mighty hand, Where Nature shower'd her richest gifts to make Another paradise, stood Krishnapore With her two score and seven huts reared by The patient labour of her simple men.

In this blest hamlet one there was that owned Its richest lands: beloved by all its men, Their friend in times of need, their guide in life, Partaker of their joys and woes as well, The arbiter of all their petty strifes. By him his friend the village master lived That at his door a group of children taught; A man he was well versed in ancient lore; And oft at night, when ended was their toil, The villagers with souls enraptured heard him In fiery accents speak of Krishna's deeds And Rama's warlike skill, and wondered that He knew so well the deities they adored. One only daughter this schoolmaster had, And Seeta was her name, the prettiest maid In all the village, nursed by the fond cares Of her indulgent sire, and loved with all The tender feelings that pure love inspires By the rich villager's only son, the heir Of all his father's wealth; the best at school, The boldest of the village youths at play, And the delight of all those that saw him; And these seemed such a fitting pair that oft The secret whisper round the village ran That Seeta was to wed the rich man's son. Thus, in this Eden, its blest inmates lived And passed their days, the villagers at the fields, Their busy women at the blazing hearths, The village master at his cottage door, And Rama and fair Seeta in true love... Continue reading book >>

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