Wednesday, October 17, 2018 | ePaper
-M Mizanur Rahman
Some flowers are in bloom in my garden
While blossoming some
And I am stopped on the pathway and then
By the sideways they are in the mood to welcome
Asking me fragrance in each of them by name
Rose, lily, ox-eye daisy, marigold,
And many others to be keen
Staring at me
Whether I am one of them as I look to be.
1 told them, 'Well, we're all
But nature's call.'
None knows but
He who makes our brain,
His is the only power to open
This life's door and shut
Like these bloomed flowers.
After its blossoming hours.
When we, like flowers, die,
He must have shown His absolute powers
Only the survivals raise the hue and cry
Chanting each of them,
The same old egotism, I and I and I
But none of us will say that we
Are all flowers of the same garden
Each one in his tree.
-Edgar Allan Poe
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those NicÃ©an barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which