To Mist Poem by Pijush Biswas

Thou, undying soul of Winter; O hear,
Sheathing enterprise of season, our own!
While thou art fortified, thy stains not fear
On the sun, - comes the fruitfulness afield
Thy olde mystery be full, reknown
Breathing high o'er chilling dome, must build
Until gaudy summer comes, a domain
As same as summer's soul leases it's role
Not to recline upon the lands of chain.
The unsoaked ground must pay thy debt now
Clear and fine, as, delicate humane
And hasten the growth as their fertile vow;
Ifear not that it may due; it may care!
O fastening ditties! Till thou art free
Come all prosperity, not for a fare;
Thou art fine among sun, such a dude
Sometimes seeking himself; adieu toll,
Fear no more, fear no, O fair attitude.






12/21/2016

COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS


(Published in his self-published book "Some Suitable Words", in January,2018)