My Village Anrilore

I was born in a remote country side Anrliore, away from the highway nigh mountans, dales and rivolets that play flutes and pipes as rhyme or hymn from some far flung friend's blissful dream. I remember the days, fished at a small fountain Spring, fenced by tall Arjun trees, Shrubs and a long Eel on the String cought with such thrill, such joyous thoughts that Adam knew as Ed'n-Bliss; Eve wasn't there to him condemn his frivolous, playful deeds: Then from that foliage's bower I did glance ,peep a great Dale and Reeds standing ere me like a Bear unfolded, still as north star's Stare. In the evening hours wth friends and one other lass in prime, I did climb the dale to hunt fruits that ripen once a time, in mid- summer, sighing his hottest air to welcome, please us. It was a bliss to know and see my Hamlet in Grace of Thine, O!Moon, as if angels white everywhere, some here with Wine and some there with Stuff all tall Never falter, to us enthrall. O! Rock and dale and mountaiin Boy, how should I tell thee of my Joy!