Behold, O Fortune-favoured one To whom this dainty book may fall, Pachmarri, Muttra, Brindabun Shall rise before you at your call— Benares' ghat, the Agra hall, And verdant slopes of Ranikhet, Are yours to gaze upon in all The pomp of full-plate cabinet. Mussoorie woods and boulders dun, Dead homes of Kings, and streams that crawl League-broad beneath a burning sun, And green, bamboo-embattled wall— A silver tarn, a floating yawl, Squat shrine and Muslim minaret, Are yours, at price exceeding small In pomp of full-plate cabinet. And have you ne'er let Fancy run Athwart the East we hold in thrall; And have you ne'er with rod or gun Left dusty Lines or dreary Mall? Then turn the page where torrents brawl And Nature's sumptuous throne is set 'Twixt giant rock and leafage tall In pomp of full-plate cabinet. L'ENVOI Prince or Princess, now you have won This book with gorgeous views beset, Procure a camera and run Yourself to full-plate cabinet.
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