Question

power of music poem of 8 class ​

Answer 1

I know that poem ok bro

Answer 2

Here is your poem

When summer comes, we hear the hums

Bhisma Lochan Sharma.

You catch his strain on hill and plain from Delhi

down to Burma

He sings as though he's staked his life, he sings

as though he's hell-bent;

The people, dazed,retire amazed although they

know it's well-meant.

They're trampled in the panic rout or languish

pale and sickly,

And plead,'My friend, we're near our end,oh

stop your singing quickly! '

The bullock-carts are overturned, and horses

line the roadside;

But Bhisma Lochan, unconcerned, goes

booming out his broadside.

The wretched brutes resent the blare the hour

they hear it sounded,

They whine and stare with feet in air or wonder

quite confounded.

The fishes dived below the lake in frantic search

for silence,

The very trees collapse and shake - you hear the

crash a mile hence -

And in the sky the feathered fly turn turtle while

they're winging,

Again we cry,'We're goingto die, oh won't you

stop your singing? '

But Bhisma's soared beyond our reach, howe'er

we plead and grumble;

The welkin weeps to hear his screech, and mighty

mansions tumble.

But now there comes a billy goat, a most

sagacious fellow,

He downs his hornsand charges straight, with

bellow answ'ring bellow.

The strains of song are tossed and whirled by

blast of brutal violence,

And Bhisma Lochan grants the world the golden

gift of silence.