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Sweet is the shelter of yon verdant glade, Where lofty palms and waving mangos bloom, Where the tall peepul spreads its grateful shade Above the pious Moslem's lowly tomb. Severe in chaste simplicity it stands Bearing no record of the donor's name, To tell the world from whose all-bounteous hands The smiling gifts of that fair valley came.

'Twas he who planted all those clustering topes, And scooped the basin of the well-filled tank, The pleasant haunt of playful antelopes, Who leap rejoicing o'er the flowery bank; And there in flocks, beside its ample brim, Unnumbered birds wheel round in airy rings; And o'er its glassy surface wild fowls skim, And stately herons plume their shining wings.