Poem No 24, 25, 26, 27

Poem No 24


Dear Sir
"Lend me your Rollin" --how oft have I said,
Yet you do lend it not: --But you evade
Me, with a silly Banee like reply--
I do not this expect from thee and why?
Because I love respect and honour thee,
And think you are a main of honesty?--
There is a lad-- his name I will not tell,
Who loves me not tho I do love him well--
Unask'd that wanted me this book to lend
But has he done it? --no! --he is a friend
That rather would insult. than honor me--
I am dear sir, your servant M. S. D.
                                                  
                                                   -- kidderpore
                                       The poets' Residence
                                           6th April, 1842



Poem No 25


I thought I shall be able,
(Making thy lap my table)
To write that not with ease:--
But ha! Your shaking
Gave my pen a quaking--
Rudeness ne'er saw I like this--
                                           --Hindu College 


 
Poem No 26


Gour excuse me that in verse
My Muse desireth to rehearse
The Gratitude she oweth thee
I thank you and most heartily
The motion that my friend thou art
Makes me reject the flatter's art
Here is your book--my thanks too here
That as it was and these sincere.
                                                   --Kidderpore

Poem No 27

I

If aught beneath boundless sky

There be no brighten this sad brow

Or make me once forget sigh,

Dear maid! it is must be --thou!

II

Those eyes where fond affection beams

Oft like the moon impart

The softest hues to tinge my dreams

And light my darkened heart:--

III

Yes, I have know and deeply felt

Heart rending grief and woe

Which by the hand of fate and dealt

To all who dwell below

IV

Tho few my years --Yet they have taught,--

Aye sadly taught --that here,

The hours which life's endearments fraught"

Will never more appear!--

V

My childhood look dim as a cloud

Enthroned upon a distant sky.

The mists of by gone years enshroud

The fair scenes that behind my lie.

VI

I look before the dreary scene

Shows visions grim of misery

It tells me, what I have once been,

I never never more can be!

                                                           --Calcutta 5th July, 1842