On Poonam’s Growing Up
Your youth and with it care, thick as thinness
Have jarringly intruded in your play,
And every pore of papa hurts and grieves,
But this is what this life is anyway;
And why this life is so? I can not say:
The branches harden and the rustling leaves,
Will shed their brownish hues and one day,
In green attire spend their lovely eves.
I also had a doll and I am mad,
That youth and care came only yesterday,
You were my doll and I am very sad
take you far away.
You lost your doll of rags to youth and care,
But I am going to lose you Poonam dear.
