IT'S TRUE, O MY LOVE!
From the Seas of your aromatic Virtues blessed by Nature in infinite abundance!
They feel dull, dreary and dampened without your magnanimous munificence,
And even with the touch of vernal breeze they seem sombre, and lack life's essence!
It's true, O my Love that birds are beseeching you to be borrowed a whit of your sweet tone,
From the oceans of your sublime and celestial symphony, gifted by Nature in
perennial plenitude,
So that they can overcome the commonplace and tedious musics of their own,
And sing their serenades forever with zeal untold, and triumph of an unthinkable magnitude!
It's true, O my Love that gold, diamond and platinum are begging you most humbly,
To pour on them, like the merciful rain, a pittance of your enchanting grace and enviable Beauty,
So that they won't have to hide their lusterless faces in the crevasses of inferiority shamefully,
And their dismayed devotees may extol them again, and their utility may not be deemed a synonym for futility!
Copyright: Shankar D Mishra 21.07.20
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