Sadness,Joy and Strife

I Seated in a bray were three friends, On chair,pavement,aisle did they fill. Merrying,hopping,sharing their advice, Like the hopping daffodils does in the hay. But a languorous serendipity perchanc'd, And the three in decisions advanc'd. Sadness to the utmost flew, Joy opposite in decision yet in the land drew. While strife beneath the earth dived, Making the three friends in separation thrived. Life seem'd vague when they unity despised, And they all did in love's isolation lay. With no hope of boosted liveliness, All were bethrot'd to weariness. II Then came a fearful bright dawn, Strecth'd wide in the sky like unto a lawn. Sadness pierc'd her eyes through the sun, It seem'd natures plotted against her. Then said she unto herself like unto a 'street dancer', Bellowing deep towards the shadow 'mancer'. "I'll arise and return to joy, That we along with strife will by unity coil". Then she arose and edged to joy her way, That if she be not in the land then she'll in the bray. From afar Joy point'd her gaze like unto a gun, With " Is that not sadness...?",laying in mouth her. Then she dashed into her arm with her in her sight, And both did all their predicaments recite. III The Nightingale often mock'd strife, "Plumpy belly,disgusting snout", in Nightingale lies. Her atmosphere scolded her heartily, That she ev'n in her dreams dwelt wearily. Then she too rethink to revisit aged folks, To at least enchant logs of pending talks. And if by help they can bail him out, " If Joy won't,Sadness will";She thought. Then she picked her way towards Joy abode, And for hours she in anxiety rode. A mile ahead,her eyes sensed steadily, All in each sight, the three again met merrily. And again in the bray were the three; But can these really be?