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Post by madanmohandas on Mar 7, 2021 6:09:31 GMT -6
When rising up I look to face book's page,
For want of other idleness I read,
And wonder then whether I should engage,
But soon another cup of coffee need.
But when Phoebus rises to give the light,
And gilds the door frame with a golden sheen,
And all the back yard glows with lustre bright,
The lap top's screen no longer can be seen.
Then while across the table top I look,
And light upon the thing I chiefly need,
And pick up with my eager hands the book,
And from where I left off begin to read.
And then peruse such themes lofty, sublime,
I wonder why I wasted all that time!
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Post by Nityānanda dāsa on Mar 16, 2021 2:59:47 GMT -6
I love this one!!! 🙏🏻
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Post by madanmohandas on Mar 21, 2021 2:46:58 GMT -6
Another idle sonnet.
When winter's passed and verdant spring is nigh,
It maybe understood that very soon,
As by degrees Phoebus mounts up the sky,
Snow drops will glisten and the crocae bloom.
Yet when the daffodils begin to show,
Still bending down to look, as if in shame,
And still with yellow lustre all aglow,
As those who love themselves still bear his name.*
The lively birds begin to change their song,
And scouting honey bees are seen abroad,
Who all for warmth and genial sunlight long,
For nesting, and to keep the honey stored.
And thus the certain signs and sights appear,
That indicate the passing of the year.
*Narcissus.
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