To The Romantics Poem by Shouvik Narayan Hore

I sit amongst dozens of ancient books,
While Shelley in mystic abodes doth breathe,
Those works of Wordsworth my natural hue shooks
When Haidee in Byron's vigoured laps writhes,
And Hermes wanders foreign shrubs and weeds,
I sit thinking- should I adopt their creeds?

"No! " says the brain, "Thou art a freelance bird,
A Northern star- why should adopt their ken?
May fluent flow their ideas in thy words,
But must lurk thy emotions in their den?
If heart loves them, love too, with unheeding will
Yet construct thy own warm solitary hill.

How appeal'st me, the blue Sun and the Sky!
The heart of the Classics, my soul's libertie. (liberty)