Yet the golden bell <br />when tune wakes up from the sorrow <br />as inspiring by the hope of tomorrow <br />the dream when jingles by the green <br /> <br />the graceful glow <br />when painted by the rays of rainbow <br />when unseen into the folds of the cloud <br />the morning as delightful by the mirror <br /> <br />searching upon the milieu <br />the gleeful flairs as glazed <br />when delved out from the crowd deep <br />as shimmering across the moon <br />when untouched even by the rain <br /> <br />the mute voices when besotted <br />by the cuckoo’s song <br />the breath slithers one after the other <br />the dream onto the hope unexhausted <br /> <br />by the quests and queries <br />for the musk to follow <br />still we move by the passion <br />pattens never seem to be of your own<br /><br />Dr subhendu kar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-jingle-by-the-green/
