SUMMERS AT THE KASHMIR VALLEY

 

S. V. Taneja

 

Oh, what a fascination and charm,

Of all the live murmur of A summers day;

When thy valley gets clothed in green everywhere,

And with the sound of summer, be in the passing breeze,

Or in the broad branching trees,

Or in the grass, it swings of jovial-painted meads,

Or the country-brook’s with much more agreeable music,

And ye gently dimpled rivers, and curling streams, rolling as smooth

As summer’s dreams:

Or a gay insect in his summershine spreads his mealy wings.

The air all around resounding from black-bird, limit, thrush,

Nightingale with thy warbling notes, honouring summer’s arrival at the hills.

And when far-off, the warbled strains are heard;

Reminding the tourists, excursionists that summer’s splendours have spread;

With a glee and gaiety, when the sun has hung in soft-beamed eyes.

In landscapes plantings, perennials, lavender-­hued flower beds,

Chrysanthemum, mangolia and rambling roses that burst apart,

With the moon-rise and in breathtaking fragrances.

The Majestic cool-shaded chinars as a sheltering treat;

And the tall-oak branches in merrymaking in star’s company.

Where’so’ver thou turn, its to behold, with thine sunbeamed eyes

And thy hill’s summers are a sea of glory; \

With full of jollity and revelry.

 

 

Back