Poem
Our Casuarina Tree | | Toru Dutt (1856–77) | |
| LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round | | The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars, | | Up to its very summit near the stars, | | A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound | | No other tree could live. But gallantly | 5 | The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung | | In crimson clusters all the boughs among, | | Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee; | | And oft at nights the garden overflows | | With one sweet song that seems to have no close, | 10 | Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose. | | | | When first my casement is wide open thrown | | At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest; | | Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest | | A gray baboon sits statue-like alone | 15 | Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs | | His puny offspring leap about and play; | | And far and near kokilas hail the day; | | And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows; | | And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast | 20 | By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast, | | The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed. | | | | But not because of its magnificence | | Dear is the Casuarina to my soul: | | Beneath it we have played; though years may roll, | 25 | O sweet companions, loved with love intense, | | For your sakes, shall the tree be ever dear. | | Blent with your images, it shall arise | | In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes! | | What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear | 30 | Like the sea breaking on a shingle-beach? | | It is the tree’s lament, an eerie speech, | | That haply to the unknown land may reach. | | | | Unknown, yet well-known to the eye of faith! | | Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away | 35 | In distant lands, by many a sheltered bay, | | When slumbered in his cave
| LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round | | The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars, | | Up to its very summit near the stars, | | A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound | | No other tree could live. But gallantly | 5 | The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung | | In crimson clusters all the boughs among, | | Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee; | | And oft at nights the garden overflows | | With one sweet song that seems to have no close, | 10 | Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose. | | | | When first my casement is wide open thrown | | At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest; | | Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest | | A gray baboon sits statue-like alone | 15 | Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs | | His puny offspring leap about and play; | | And far and near kokilas hail the day; | | And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows; | | And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast | 20 | By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast, | | The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed. | | | | But not because of its magnificence | | Dear is the Casuarina to my soul: | | Beneath it we have played; though years may roll, | 25 | O sweet companions, loved with love intense, | | For your sakes, shall the tree be ever dear. | | Blent with your images, it shall arise | | In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes! | | What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear | 30 | Like the sea breaking on a shingle-beach? | | It is the tree’s lament, an eerie speech, | | That haply to the unknown land may reach. | | | | Unknown, yet well-known to the eye of faith! | | Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away | 35 | In distant lands, by many a sheltered bay, | | When slumbered in his cave