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Click below to download : At Ventura, California (Format : PDF)
At Ventura, California
The moon rises and washes the brine with silver;The dunes like white elephants restfully asleep after the chase;
And the fog comes to bring the moon its veil of shades.
The waves stretch their phosphorescent arms
To embrace the night,
The wind like a wounded gull beats its wings
Over the land, over the sea, into the fog-vested intangibility.
Like a thousand trumpets the breakers
Proclaim the empiry of night,
The rocky caverns send back echoes
Like homage from vassals near and far;
A faint cry seemeth to flash like lightning;
Through the clouds of the roar of waves:
It is not from the rocks, nor from the sea;
Ah! it is the prayer of a mightier ocean--Humanity!
(The end)
Dhan Gopal Mukerji's poem: At Ventura, California
NEXT BOOKS
The same air that you breatheIs the air that caresses my sky; The sunlight that lingers on your hair and lips Sets fire to the pathway of my life; And the call of nature's numberless birds But reflects in world's mirror the music of our heart's singing-- Melody made of sweet agonies, Exquisite joys poured from pitchers of pain, As this summer's heat From the ever-burning heart of heaven. Not heaven alone;
The Same Air That You Breathe
The same air that you breatheIs the air that caresses my sky; The sunlight that lingers on your hair and lips Sets fire to the pathway of my life; And the call of nature's numberless birds But reflects in world's mirror the music of our heart's singing-- Melody made of sweet agonies, Exquisite joys poured from pitchers of pain, As this summer's heat From the ever-burning heart of heaven. Not heaven alone;
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A soft light mantle of rose wear the brown hills As they look down on the valley where the rills Spin their long silver embroideries For the fringe of spring's greened draperies. The cloud-banks recede with the fading breeze, The warblers fall into silence in the trees To listen to many-colored dream-melodies That the mute stars make on sleep's endless seas. The last light flickers out of the sky, Shadows with golden feet o'er
Moonrise
A soft light mantle of rose wear the brown hills As they look down on the valley where the rills Spin their long silver embroideries For the fringe of spring's greened draperies. The cloud-banks recede with the fading breeze, The warblers fall into silence in the trees To listen to many-colored dream-melodies That the mute stars make on sleep's endless seas. The last light flickers out of the sky, Shadows with golden feet o'er
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