Baugmaree

Sonnet.—Baugmaree.

A sea of foliage girds our garden round,But not a sea of dull unvaried green,Sharp contrasts of all colours here are seen;The light-green graceful tamarinds aboundAmid the mangoe clumps of green profound,And palms arise, like pillars gray, between;And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls lean.Red,—red, and startling like a trumpet's sound.But nothing can be lovelier than the rangesOf bamboos to the eastward, when the moonLooks through their gaps, and the white lotus changesInto a cup of silver. One might swoonDrunken with beauty then, or gaze and gazeOn a primeval Eden, in amaze.