How hast thou lost, O month of honey and flowers - Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyay

How hast thou lost, O month of honey and flowers, The voice that was thy soul! Creative showers, The cuckoo's daylong cry and moan of bees, Zephyrs and streams and softly-blossoming trees And murmuring laughter and heart-easing tears And tender thoughts and great and the compeers Of lily and jasmine and melodious birds, All these thy children into lovely words He changed at will and made soul-moving books From hearts of men and women's honied looks. O master of delicious words! the bloom Of chompuk and the breath of king-perfume Have made each musical sentence with the noise Of women's ornaments and sweet household joys And laughter tender as the voice of leaves Playing with vernal winds. The eye receives That reads these lines an image of deli