Painting

"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