Page 17 - Petals of Flower-Revised_30thJune,2017
P. 17
Ill fares the day, to hungry ills a prey:
Give me my day’s bread, Thee my Lord.I pray !
I sit at the table, a picture of poise
Resolv’d to bare my lips but to eat sans noise:
“Tut, tut what if, the soup is short of a pinch,
Think of the struggle, my son, on Dhandi’s beach.
Even Spencer’s sauce hath lost its savour,
Dear mother’s hand hath greater flavour!”.
“An ounce of labour is worth a ton of satire”
Lest one silly remark stoke simm’ring ire! (40)
No gossip or joke on our neighbours will mend,
Nor ready wit, nor idle banter will the strife end.
Oh, ‘tis vain to hope she’d return to her
Accustom’d mood; harm done once is for e’er;
What charm did Menaka on the sage ply to lure;
Revers’d are the roles and ‘tis vain to cure
The penance of my spouse, ‘tonce a stranger;
The air is strained and I’feel her anger;
No gentle tread will follow till the drive’s end,
Nor can I cast one longing ling’ring look behind. (50)
