Weary of the lengthy day’s heat;
To thy cozy bosom,
Wilt thou take me, spirit sweet?
Weary of the long, blind struggle
For a pathway vivid and high,—
Weary of the dimly dying
Hopes that by no means pretty all die.
Weary looking out a awful cipher
For a precise that have to be meant;
Discontent with being weary,—
Weary with my discontent.
I am weary of the trusting
Where my trusts however torments prove;
Wilt thou maintain belief with me? wilt thou
Be my actual and gentle love?
I am weary drifting, driving
Like a helmless bark at sea;
Kindly, blissful spirit,
Wilt thou supply thyself to me?
Give thy birds to sing me sonnets?
Give thy winds my cheeks to kiss?
And thy mossy rocks to stand for
The memorials of our bliss?
I in reverence will preserve thee,
Never vexed with jealous ills,
Though thy wild and wimpling waters
Wind about a thousand hills.
- Poetry by Mohan Ugale
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