Nithin purple

Nithin purple Poems

Blossomed spring from enchanted year,
Now may long lipped surprise weave—
When Fair Persephone's love, unwrap
As thus azur'd flowers wide appear.
...

Hush, like this mid night's surprise, for love has waked
Sprouted its flower, the defying thorns in me
Thus gave sensitive pains for my thoughts they embraced
With and now dissolved with her in that night sublime.1
...

Nithin purple Biography

Nithin Purple is an Indian born post -diplomate, writer, poet and draughtsman, born and raised in Kerala, is a man of hybrid curiosity with audacious dreams, Who likes to tune his own fancied lute through the golden steps of literature and his evergreen fine artistic whim, which tooks a course in him to nurture his literary skills. He gives importance to cultural studies and science and astronomy. A freak who runs back to revolving time, an antique fanatic who has nostalgic dreams to apply in poetry, prose or any sort of creative work. A graphic mind in him helps to force his boundless language that circles a passionate tinge to diffuse his Career, He likes aggressiveness to keep his visionary ideas by freedom to think and work. He likes to travel and experiment his eager thoughts where he is strongly fond of nature and all the Forms of it)

The Best Poem Of Nithin purple

On An Insight On Grecian Spring

Blossomed spring from enchanted year,
Now may long lipped surprise weave—
When Fair Persephone's love, unwrap
As thus azur'd flowers wide appear.

O' wake with the darling season!
Where green bosomed earth will pine,
For butterfly wings and cuckoo's flap,
And tame their consorts to the boon.

West wind adrift from Dorian dell,
And bliss as whose ascended harmony,
Beguiled scents among posy bands;
With murm'ring delight as they loll—

And the blue skyward they did stretch;
Seen a train of Oscine's up rise,
Therein they tweet, and slide afield,
To that moss-bloomed wilder couch.

Lo' golden harvests round many beech,
With sweet-lushest fruits and overjoy,
From clusters of tiny yellow flowers,
With sassafras trees brighten much.

Panting multitudes; bestir!
The enthusiast obeys this clime!
Yet sun with its moderate glance,
And flow'd a narrow Brooklet fair.

Cyclamens in her tints of pink,
Bloom'd on the peaks of Meteora;
And lilies sprung from Olympus,
With yellow star like daisies blink.

Nature has embellish'd rare as May
Its dew-gemm'd primroses glitter'd up,
To show pride from each budding weed,
Since from skies naught a ray dismay.

'Tis the ancient sculptured high-land,
Of flowers and long-age heritage;
This decorates fields and plateaus,
The steep mountains of peaceful land.

Woodland sedges outgrowing beneath,
Where Grasshoppers find frisky time,
Which keen to that syrupy spring—
And Greece bows the grandeur of Earth.

Look yon paradise; glides Athenian aura
It's well seen beauty as from golden car descent,
Whose spells did charm and bliss those outstretched flora
Are Inspir'd by winds, with pleasures, too pleasant.

Thence Fair Arcadian pines grown,
Being nursed by some glory mists;
Of argent fumes, the trees they drown
Are such by year's balmy effects?

Life's renewal came and pacey flown
As sparks that roused eager jets,
Those spirits by clear morning grown;
Encompasses those extend'd spots.

Yet deep beauty, still more to sooth
To mingled earth we humble lay
Will ward off infectious dearth,
And pensive dirge no more to may.

Oft has Peace our soft passions see,
Sensible to every birth, triumphAnd
smooth revival on pastures glee;
Is graced this from a fecund nymph?

See golden spring blest in its verdant form
Like robe's the morn an ever greeny patch,
The genii of her deeds which rais'd so charm,
Thus seems the woods gleaming to enrich.

Glad brooms and blue-bells are they, these
Ha! Countless violet-color'd fancy weft
Awhile will queering heart once ease?
Him, whose eyes see happy aloft?

Goddess let lush, laughter this way
In me thus soft as concord make
From this world's yelling sway;
Let bursting buds they wake-awake

If duskiness awhile it fade
Aye, there joyous wings shall mature,
In me, spring if then rosy-clad
Sweet reflects this song from my musing lyre

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