XXIV
"Hers is the drop of dew early morning"
Hers is the drop of dew early morning
Adorn blades of grass turned sudden lustrous
Hers are tears flowing funeral mourning
Snake river-like down widow's mourning cheek
Glisten unbidden of stones most precious
Given native fairness blessed at its peak
She smiles, and the forests yield their branches
The sunlight deigns to send its noon-high beams
As she walks through her forested arches
And sunflowers swivel to catch her view
Of radiance her presence emanates it seems
Aspired by many yet possessed by few
Hers is the splendor that delights the skies
She is Nature in most feeble disguise.
XXV
"It is softest cloth"
It is softest cloth that pampers the skin
By slightest stroke sends shivers of delight
The simplest of touches stoppers the din
It is the glare of noon that numbs one's thought
Blinded thus by rays of highest sunlight
Dulls mulling reason to most mindless naught
It is fireworks that herald each new year
Exploding in sensational fashion
Sparkles and glitters seen from far and near
It is water found in the deepest lake
That reflects cleanly the purest passions
And priests pour purified for one's soul's sake
It is the brush between two lover's lips
Locked in Love's tender and passionate kiss.
"Hers is the drop of dew early morning"
Hers is the drop of dew early morning
Adorn blades of grass turned sudden lustrous
Hers are tears flowing funeral mourning
Snake river-like down widow's mourning cheek
Glisten unbidden of stones most precious
Given native fairness blessed at its peak
She smiles, and the forests yield their branches
The sunlight deigns to send its noon-high beams
As she walks through her forested arches
And sunflowers swivel to catch her view
Of radiance her presence emanates it seems
Aspired by many yet possessed by few
Hers is the splendor that delights the skies
She is Nature in most feeble disguise.
XXV
"It is softest cloth"
It is softest cloth that pampers the skin
By slightest stroke sends shivers of delight
The simplest of touches stoppers the din
It is the glare of noon that numbs one's thought
Blinded thus by rays of highest sunlight
Dulls mulling reason to most mindless naught
It is fireworks that herald each new year
Exploding in sensational fashion
Sparkles and glitters seen from far and near
It is water found in the deepest lake
That reflects cleanly the purest passions
And priests pour purified for one's soul's sake
It is the brush between two lover's lips
Locked in Love's tender and passionate kiss.
