I can't equate thee with an oasis,
Nor with a weary voyager's sole port,
A last hope no one can afford to miss,
Nor a child's fondest dream, her last resort.
Thou art more than a paltry sandy green,
Thine verdant pasture's spread many a mile,
Solace to all, soothing balm thou hast been,
What's an oasis but a tiny isle?
Eternal thine grace much wider is spread,
And when a long-lost son, defeated soul,
Returns as if from desert's dreary dread,
Showered is he all thine love, grace and all.
No mere oasis, a life-giving kiss,
Thou art nothing less than eternal bliss.
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Sonnets | 07.04.04 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Her last result! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Again another vintage work of 2004, no one has chosen to comment on. Barring a few most comments here are wishy-washy. I'd rather prefer to have an idea how many visited the poem if not fully read it.