The Poet

A bright morning sun reflected off the everlasting hills and over blushing flowers, Then onto whispering trees heavy with fruit, over purling steams and dimpled lakes, A poet, dipping his pen into the ink that writes of pure images in the urn of truth, Writing besotted letters, of imperishable brightness, weighing immortality of nature. Having the wisdom of nature suited to the right regulation and adjustment to changes, That exists in man to understand the beauties of nature not just on a summer morning, Nights are spent in the midnight oil chasing words to express the beauty we all see, Words to highlight understanding to enhance desires and refinements to see as the poet. Revelations not beyond reach to bring beautiful scenes into homes, the true philosophy, When philosophy acknowledges the unlimited range of its sphere bringing light to all, Whose posy has charmed the fancy and whose works have enriched the world of letters, Many poets whose eloquence has astonished even only a few, the researches are rewarded.