Sundarlal - A Requiem

At last the rain cried in gloom

With pangs on the fall of bloom,

The trees shed its leaves at all

With tangs on the corpse in toll.

The sky with colour of bitter woe,

The birds with chirps of utter rue,

And, what more, the whole lives in grief

Gathered to pay the encomium brief.

The mountain played a silent song,

And the wind breathed a salient dong,

The rivulet halted for a while,

And the land herself kept in isle.

Oh! my grand old man of trees,

 Oh! the lover of ceremonial greens,

Who else be there after thou

To copy 'nd paste thy thought and love?

Thousand scores of hearts in run

Thwarting the threat of thriving Sun;

Behold the unique mind of theirs,

And hark the requiem they do sing.

All they plant the greens for him,

For the Earth and for all lives.

Fifth of June is a tuned bouquet 

The eternal gift for Sundarlal.