CONSOLATION
This world so full of such like wonders is
That soulful verses, words of mine et all,
My loves, my deep desires, longed for bliss,
Are like some child’s illegible scrawl
On walls of life. And every port and state
Has once been visited by some sailor past,
Who lived and died with gusto. And all great,
Unrivalled statues by late sculptors cast;
And every verse that matters has been writ;
And every battle has been lost ere won.
At heaven’s crowded gate repenting sit
That herein also I am the late one.
But one great consolation I have got,
I wrought with love, whatever I have wrought.
