please send me icse treasure trove poem 1 ch and story of a face in the dark English Hindi both please
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Answer:
The Heart of the Tree
-Henry Cayler Bunner
What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants a friend of sun and sky;
He plants the flag of breezes free; The shaft of beauty, towering high;
He plants a home to heaven anigh; For song and mother-croon of bird In hushed and happy twilight heard-
The treble of heaven's harmony- These things he plants who plants a tree.
What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants cool shade and tender rain, And seed and bud of days to be, And years that fade and flush again; He plants the glory of the plain He plants the forest's heritage; The harvest of a coming age; The joy that unborn eyes shall see These things he plants who plants a tree.
What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants, in sap and leaf and wood, In love of home and loyalty And far-cast thought of civic good-
His blessings on the neighborhood Who in the hollow of His hand Holds all the growth of all our land A nation's growth from sea to sea Stirs in his heart who plants a tree
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A Face in the Dark
-Ruskin Bond
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Mr. Oliver, an Anglo-Indian teacher, was returning to his school late one night on the outskirts of the hill-station of Simla From before Kipling's time, the school had been run on English public school lines; and the boys, most of them from wealthy Indian families, wore blazers, caps and ties. Life. magazine, in a feature on India, had once called it the Eton of the East. Mr Oliver had been teaching in the school for several years.
The Simla Bazaar, with its cinemas and restaurants, was about three miles from the school; and Mr Oliver, a bachelor, usually strolled into the town in the evening, returning after dark, when he would take a short cut through the pine forest
strang When there was a strong wind, the pine trees made sad, eene sounds that kept most people to the main road. But Mr Oliver was not a nervous or imaginative man. He carried a torch, and its gleam-the batteries were running down moved fitfully down the narrow forest path. When its flickering light fell in the figure of a boy, who was sitting alone on a rock, Mr Oliver stopped. Boys were not supposed to be out after dark
'What are you doing out here, boy?' asked Mr Oliver sharply, moving closer so that he could recognize the miscreant. But even as he approached the boy, Mr Oliver sensed that something was wrong. The boy appeared to be crying. His head hung down, he bold he down, he held his face in his hands, and his body shook convulsively. It was a strange, soundless weeping, and Mr Oliver felt distinctly uneasy.
Well, what's the matter? he asked, his anger giving way to concern. What are you crying for? The boy would not answer or look up. His body continued to be racked with silent sobbing. Come on, boy, you shouldn't be out here at this hour. Tell me the trouble. Look up The boy looked up. He took his hands from his face and looked up at his teacher. The light from Mr Oliver's torch fell on the boy's face-if you could call it a face.
It had no eyes, ears, nose or mouth. It was just a round smooth head with a school cap on top of it! And that's where the story should end. But for Mr Oliver it did not end here.
panic The torch fell from his trembling hand. He turned and scrambled down the path, running blindly through the trees and calling for help. He was still running towards the school buildings when he saw a lantern swinging in the middle of the path. Mr Oliver stumbled up to the watchman, gasping for breath. What is it, Sahib?' asked the watchman, 'Has there been an accident? Why are you running?"
'I saw something-something horrible-a boy weeping in the forest-and he had no face!"
'No face, Sahib?"
'No eyes, nose, mouth-nothing!'
'Do you mean it was like this, Sahib ? asked the watchman, and raised the lamp to his own face. The watchman had no eyes, no ears, no features at all-not even an eyebrow! And that's when the wind blew the lamp out.
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