A Ballad Of A Child And A Rose

A child plays by a window-pane
in his home nigh a floral-land;
A dancing rose by a dell
caught his eyes with ruddy spell.

Like a wind, runs the boy
to the lawn, casting toy.

Flutters beside some fallen hoes
the beautiful and pliant rose.
Stretches his arm, and tends to pluck
Ouch!! but those thorns, they mock.

Like a wind, he runs again
to the pane with the bloody hand.

Rage and anger made him red
broke him out and tears he shed.
‘Die, the plant’ told his rage
but the vivid red made him sage.

From the pane, now everyday
he stares the rose, and to be gay.

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Niraj Niroula

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'Let me write the instance confronting the death and I shall be the happiest man leaving', that's how I feel about writing.And about the Poetry; " His poetry, like your floating clouds of feeling, are but the blue drops of raining thought. To heal those pains of convention and fear; Nothing but the truth and nature to share."
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