Page 44 - Lavender-B-7

No other tree could live. But gallantly

The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung

In crimson clusters all the boughs among,

Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee;

And oft at nights the garden overflows

With one sweet song that seems to have no close,

Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose.

When first my casement is wide open thrown

At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest;

Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest

A grey baboon sits statue-like alone

Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs

His puny offspring leap about and play;

And far and near kokilas hail the day;

And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows;

And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast

By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast,

The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed.

But not because of its magnificence

gallantly: bravely Dear is the Casuarina to my soul:
darkling: in the dark
casement: window Beneath it we have played; though years may roll,
puny: weak/tiny O sweet companions, loved with love intense,
kokila: a cuckoo
wend: to move slowly and not For your sakes, shall the tree be ever dear.
directly
hoar: grey with age Blent with your images, it shall arise
enmassed: gathered in a
mass In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes!
blent: (archaic) past tense of
‘blend’
dirge-like: sorrowful What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear

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