Poem – Prayer 

Lord Rama! My honour is in Your hands.
You are the protector of the poor; I surrender myself at Your Feet.
I have heard of the sinners whom You have reclaimed.
I am an old sinner, pray extend Your loving hand and take me to Yourself.
To destroy the sins of the sinner, and to remove the ailments of the afflicted is Your occupation.
Grant me devotion to You, O Lord, and confer Your grace on me! 

Poem – Maya 

Up till now I have lost much and wasted life in idle pursuits.
The grace of Lord Rama has aroused me from sleep.
Awakened now, I shall not allow myself to be victimized by Maya (illusion).
I have gained the grace of the Lord’s Name. I shall hold it fast to my bosom and not let it from me for a second.
The beautiful form of the Lord I shall cherish in my mind.
Long has this world mocked me, making me a slave of the senses.
Now I shall have no more of it.
I am now a bee at my Lord’s Lotus Feet and shall not allow my mind to leave the enjoyment of their nectar for a moment. 

Poem – Doha 


Tulsi Tulsi sab kahe,Tulsi ban ki ghaas

Ho gayi kirpa Ram ki, to ban gaye Tulsidas’

‘Tulsi meethe bachan te sukh upjaat chahu or

Basikaran ek mantra hain pariharu bachan kathor’

‘Bina tej ke purush ki avshi avagya hoy

Aagi bujhe jyo raakh ki aap chuvay sab koy’

‘Tulsi saathi vipatti ke vidya vinay vivek

Sahas sukriti sustyavat, Ram bharose ek’

‘Kaam krodh mad lobh ki jou lou man mein khan

Tau lou Pandit moorkhou Tulsi ek saman’

‘Ram naam mani deep dharoo jih dehari dwar

Tulsi bheeter bahrao jo chahasi ujiyar’ 

Poem – To M

Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire,

With bright, but mild affection shine:

Though they might kindle less desire,

Love, more than mortal, would be thine.
For thou art form’d so heavenly fair,

Howe’er those orbs may wildly beam,

We must admire, but still despair;

That fatal glance forbids esteem.
When Nature stamp’d thy beauteous birth,

So much perfection in thee shone,

She fear’d that, too divine for earth,

The skies might claim thee for their own.
Therefore, to guard her dearest work,

Lest angels might dispute the prize,

She bade a secret lightning lurk,

Within those once celestial eyes.
These might the boldest Sylph appall,

When gleaming with meridian blaze;

Thy beauty must enrapture all;

But who can dare thine ardent gaze?
‘Tis said that Berenice’s hair,

In stars adorns the vault of heaven;

But they would ne’er permit thee there,

Who wouldst so far outshine the seven.
For did those eyes as planets roll,

Thy sister-lights would scarce appear:

E’en suns, which systems now control,

Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. 

Poem – To Lord Thurlow

‘I lay my branch of laurel down. 

Then thus to form Apollo’s crown. 

Let every other bring his own.’~Lord Thurlow’s lines to Mr. Rogers

‘I lay my branch of laurel down.’

Thou ‘lay thy branch of laurel down!’

Why, what thou’st stole is not enow;

And, were it lawfully thine own,

Does Rogers want it most, or thou?

Keep to thyself thy wither’d bough, 

Or send it back to Doctor Donne:

Were justice done to both, I trow,

He’d have but little, and thou-none.
‘Then thus to form Apollo’s crown.’

A crown! why, twist it how you will,

Thy chaplet must be foolscap still. 

When next you visit Delphi’s town,

Inquire amongst your fellow-lodgers,

They’ll tell you Phoebus gave his crown,

Some years before your birth, to Rogers.
‘Let every other bring his own.’

When coals to Newcastle are carried,

And owls sent to Athens, as wonders,

From his spouse when the R egent’s un­married, 

Or Liverpool weeps o’er his blunders;

When Tories and Whigs cease to quarrel,

When Castlereagh’s wife has an heir,

Then Rogers shall ask us for laurel,

And thou shalt have plenty to spare.