Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Sonnet - Michael Madhusudan Dutt

I am not rich, nay, nor the future heir
To sparkling gold or silver heaped on store;
There is no marble blushing on my floor
With thousand varied dies:—no gilded chair,
No cushions, carpets that by riches are
Brought from the Persian land, or Turkish shore;
There is no menial waiting at my door
Attentive to the knell: and all things rare,
Born in remotest regions, that shine in
And grace the rich-man's hall, are wanting here.
These are not things that by blind Fate have been
Allotted ever to the poor man's share:
These are not things, these eyes have ever seen,
Tho' their proud names have sounded in this ear!

Michael Madhusudan Dutt (1824 - 1873) Bangladesh
Source: The Bengali Book of English Verse by Theodore Douglas Dunn and Rabindranath Tagore, Longmans, Green, and Co., 1918

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