The Splendour Of Love

By Shounak Sinha Ray

Love’s sweet splendour cannot be spent in vain:

On summer mornings, when some wispy cloud

Shares its grey sorrow, there will ring aloud 

A warm whisper round the earth’s dew-fettered chain.

The Nightingale’s symphony: time cannot drain

Her vocal harmony; she’s never tired

To sing of summer luxury; when expired,

The leaves fade and fall to autumn’s willowed strain.

The deep warmth of love can be never lost:

On a pale winter night, when the cold winds blow,

The lone branches rustle, and the meadow sparse

Is thickened with mist, the distant frost

Cannot ruin your slumber; for all you know,

A mild touch shall glow under the hidden stars.

By Shounak Sinha Ray