All poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms.
Poems
This volume consists of all poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms. All such poems published by Sri Aurobindo during his lifetime are included here, as well as poems found among his manuscripts after his passing. Sri Aurobindo worked on these poems over the course of seven decades. The first one was published in 1883 when he was ten; a number of poems were written or revised more than sixty years later, in the late 1940s.
THEME/S
O Coïl, honied envoy of the spring, Cease thy too happy voice, grief's record, cease: For I recall that day of vernal trees, The soft asoca's bloom, the laden winds And green felicity of leaves, the hush, The sense of Nature living in the woods. Only the river rippled, only hummed The languid murmuring bee, far-borne and slow, Emparadised in odours, only used The ringdove his divine heart-moving speech; But sweetest to my pleased and singing heart Thy voice, O Coïl, in the peepel tree.
O me! for pleasure turned to bitterest tears! O me! for the swift joy, too great to live, That only bloomed one hour! O wondrous day, That crowned the bliss of those delicious years. The vernal radiance of my lover's lips Was shut like a red rose upon my mouth, His voice was richer than the murmuring leaves, His love around me than the summer air. Five hours entangled in the coïl's cry Lay my beloved twixt my happy breasts. O voice of tears! O sweetness uttering death! O lost ere yet that happy cry was still!
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O tireless voice of spring! Again I lie In odorous gloom of trees; unseen and near The wind-lark gurgles in the golden leaves, The woodworm spins in shrillness on the bough: Thou by the waters wailing to thy love, O chocrobacque! have comfort, since to thee The dawn brings sweetest recompense of tears And she thou lovest hears thy pain. But I Am desolate in the heart of fruitful months, Am widowed in the sight of happy things, Uttering my moan to the unhousèd winds, O coïl, coïl, to the winds and thee.
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