Ne'er Praise The Plague Of Plenty, Green Or Brown

Written by: Mustapha Mosi Gomina

Ne'er praise the plague of 
plenty, green or brown
Nor drink her wine, nor 
lust her harvest-tide
The greatest fist of luck in 
loss would drown
If lent to test the strength 
upon her pride.

The blessed straws of 
little shall suffice
To bind this plague to 
dust and yet re-grow
As sunshine brings the 
warmth, and snow, the 
ice
The little lessens less and 
more, bestow.

Ne'er curse the little ones 
orphan'd of much
For wealth abides in 
hearts embraced by ease
Ne'er bless the richest 
purse, content at touch
For sweetness lies 
beneath a fort of bees.

When fullness shall ne'er 
sprout fom plenty time
Why leave the grapes for 
seas of tasteless wine?