Precious poet You have written this poem like a 'madhavi lata' in a first person narration. The poet wants to stash away a day from the humdrum of the world. Having pent up in a claustrophobic vicinity, she wants to have a day exquisitely and exclusively for her. Only the silence makes a day for the poet. The consumerism of the intellectual mudslinging, aspersions of a low down manner, a unhappy race, running helter-skelter for the divided aims, being fidgety in mentality, the poet yearns for a day intently and intensely for her own.
Keats' reverberation of a lonely voice has been vibrant here unlike the verdant life. And so, she longs for a bowery bough of romanticism on a day chosen for a serene passing off. The obsequitious demand is not mammoth, and has been minimal from the cornocupia of natural resources. And that too from you only. By 'you' who did the poet mean is wrapped in a mystic wrap. However, her longing of the secret heart is unsophisticated and rustic in nature.
The poet has a vision of her own. She wants to cherish this longing and getting for the rest of her life. As Browning said: "I and my mistress side by side Shall be together breathe and ride, So, one day more if I am deified Who knows the world may end tonight"?
