A boy sits by the roadside,
with a tattered jacket.
In the company of the rain, dews and mist.
Cluster of griefs & pain host a conference in his mind. ...
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!