Great creations are not rushed. They possess
A quiet fruitfulness. In due course, they
Tend to fall like ripened apples from trees,
On a vivid autumn evening, that's blessed
With red and gold leaves. True poets gather
Them and marvel at their subtle beauty.
O they wish to share them with the wider
World, and spread, those bold objects of their dreams!
Fashion's threadbare garments may come and go,
But great creations will always glow deep,
In our hearts, and make heaven's angels weep.