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WILLOW DROPS.* By RAM SHARMA. PART When mortal love to heights chcreal flics, The rarest air ost stops, a las its leath ; like is mires new-possessed of wings it dics, The growing power but her illus fast its leath Inw oft our drcans sorcshalow coming fate I dream that on tiue na gin of a lle odl Which curled in many a sparkling-silver fre, With a pretty flower on may hircast stood. I The waters clashcd on in resisticss flow, As if they sought in motion wishccl-for rest; When lo, it di opped into the stream below That pretty flower which adornct my breast. V And shortly after thou wert taken ill, And flickered then thy life 'tween day and night : At lcngth thou Wert spared, -such was Heaven's will, But love's sweet fliwer felt a with'ring light. V And thy look was cold when we met again On thy sweet lips one kiss longcd to press ;- | stel with carnest voice bu sued in valin; Coldly in scorn thout turned'st thy icy sacc. Vʼ All wild, mad with despair I came away, While tear-drops fist from conscious heavcn fell -. Nor olice-as was hy Wont-thou badl's ne stay, Nor once, () mauldning thought, bal's Inc farcwell V thought it was a case of love in pout thought thou wcr su llen at sale offence kncw not ;-tinic hath since dispelled my doubt Alas, thy cullness hati : 'lcepcr seise ! W yearnel-appealed, for one short interview; Coldly thou spurncod'st my passion; t c appeal,- Cold-cold was thy reply ;-thy words were few, But sharp and cutting as the keenest steel. X Thy letters penned in passion's blooming hour The treasured relics deur of days of yorcAs now I read, each word hath still such pow'r, With gushing floods at once my cyes brim o'er. Χ Were these dear words traced by those cruel fingers ? Were they dictated by that cruel heart? Ah, each word is a charm whcre Cupid lingers, Like a well-pleased guest still oth to depart.

  • ER ER ATTA. Some printing mistakes have inadvertently crept in in "The Willow ) ops" by Ram Sharma, which appeared in our last issue of Anathbandhu, and which we hasten () correct us below ;-

Stanza 4th, line 3rd- Stanza 2 st, line 2nd Read Wither'd for Smither'd. Stanz; I2th, line 2nd R cal pouting for panting. Stanza 18th, line 3rd-- Real Vishnu for Vishon. . LU) Stanza 2 st, line 3rd Read peri for pearl. Stanza 26th, line 3rd Read circle's for archis. Aa LLLLLL LS LG MLSMSMGLGG S LLL LSLSLSLMSSSLSSLLSLSLL LSLLLLT LTLLLLSSS LLL LLLLLL 慢 "dh ar Read trembling for tumbling. N. That such a heart shrill well in such in null A v poleo : nel : nur vel seems, l () w') ; it is like iron casc in sostest golol :--- lhe diamond shines, but ol 'tis stil a stone ! N And days and wccks and nie onths have come andil slel, And still thysclf thou wrapp'st all in pricleWVlı ile ever mor e I languish-all luut leidl A widowver luone, with : liviung bride ! X | | Thc fire that lives the lofty trce within, All willy breaking forth, consumes the wood ;- Just so the flame that burns it me un secn, Now fierccly raging makes my heart its slot. N| V' 'T is said the cause away the evil ceascs, In love, howe'er, this truth but scarcely holds ; For in thy alsence still my pain increases, And grief coils round my mind her crushing folls. XV Man's passions, likc refract cod rays of light, Chameleonize all things on which they play; Now my lcspair, into thc noon of night, Turns, as by magic black, the noon of day. ΧVΙ Thcrc's gloom on carth, anul gloom in sky and air, (il nom in mcal-gloon in strcct-gloom in my room ; Gloom-gloom in sun and moon and stars so fair.- And in Iny heart-the darkness of the tomh XVII Though false to truth and faithless to thy vow, Though grown so cold-unkind-and hard to me, Though like the fick le moon inconstant thou ;- Like dews to clusk, I still am true to thce XVIII O truth in happier hours between us plighted O promises by her so oft repeated O vows so warmly made, but now so slightcl. O Ilove-all-conquering Love, by her defeate NK IX Where are ye fled? Ah, cast to winds of heav'n' liut still my heart, as looks a blastel trcc Skywards whence flashed the fire by which 't was riv'n, Turns to its tyrant, turns, my love, to thee! YXX Thou didst love mc once as thy own lear breath, And call me, “my life," sitting by my silc; Bescems thee then with scorn to cause my death, My death ? nay, rather thy own suicide ΧΧΙ Melt-melt, thou flinty soul, O melt again in streams of love, and fresh'n my withcred heart; Soften that breast where once ny head haith lain, And be, my Goddess, kind as once thou; wer XXII cannot bear this torturing, wild unrest cannot bear this cruel, ling'ring death ; O come, if l'ity yet doth sway thy breast, And with one killing glance remove my breath Darc, r7. ே