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VERSES
And round me, in the mango-tope.
No sound disturbs the stillness wide
But the horse tethered at my side
Cropping the herbage of the slope.
All human stress has died away.
As if life, pausing, held apart,
As if this vain world’s fretting heart
Stood still to hear the silence pray.
In many a mud-walled haunt of man
To-night the screaming conch will blare
—God knows what forces throng the air
Above these plains of Hindoostan.
From under every banyan-tree
Whose roots entwine the reddened stone
Carved with some god that lurks alone
Beneath the aerial canopy.
From every grove within the land
Whose shadows hide a crumbling shrine
7i

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