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"Painting is silent poetry and poetry is painting that speaks" _ Greek philosopher, Plutarch

O wondrous piece of world of art! 
Which painter gave thee lasting breath ? 
Thou wilt remain till final day! 
So far from hands of Callous Death? 

No wind of world can snatch thy hue
Thou can't be marred by hands of time
Thou art a gift from Lord of world
O blooms thou breath in rhyme of mine

O white and pink as angels wings
Thou art the eyes of Nature's maid
No mortal hand can ever pluck 
No one can garnish thee in braid

 From leaves of books of bygone time 
By hand of chance therest thou come
On mat of grass thou write a rhyme 
With quills that  dipped in heaven's rum

A foggy mist, a foggy mist! 
By hazy window pane I saw! 
A world of bliss there  walked betwixt
It heaves and breathes by nature law! 

In rills and falls in world of rhyme
My wayward heart forgot the way! 
O stop thou hands of clock of time! 
O may therest sometime I stay


O silent blooms thou wilt sing songs!
For souls distressed, in times to come
While mortal races come and go
Thou wilt remain O soul winsome

O world of  bliss, therest I wish! 
My breathes with thine may intertwine 
In heart of thine O happy blooms! 
Thou spare a room for grave of mine

From world of maddening men so far;
There is a world in magic land
A wondrous world 'of days of yore'
Farthest from present burning sand

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