How mad have I after poetry
That like Midas running after gold touch,
I too cannot see and feel the goodness
Of my small daughter,
Calling me papa with so much so love and affection,
Oh, a Midas I after poetry
Have I turned into!
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Then be sure of itEverything will finish itWhatever good it is in,The things will sell it,The house will not remain a houseBut a wine house,One of brawl, fracas, altercation,Fight and quarrel,People will move away,Goodwill will finish itAnd the house will destroy itBuilt with so much grit and perseverance.
What it is dark will remain dark unto the last,
Let it beAs light comes dispelling it.Have you seen a dark girl,Not so much,But with a fine face-cutting?The heartful love, the loveful heart,Filled with love.
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