I cry to see my happy family
Too good to be true in this city
Has god been lately drinking?
Forgot He to send his minion at me

Burn in inferno, sun must to shine
Move in harmony must the earth
The face towards it must keep the moon
While poems must out of crucible come

In sunshine I listen to my poems
While gratias to the nights I owe
Beauteous seasons! How they spare their time!
Enrich they a teeny particular like me

Gift of gob doesn’t park the poem
Nor does the art of meters and pun
Words which I see in the world
In the peeping moon, in the peeping sun

Imitate I can’t in words
The pictures of colors and dark
In poems but I interpret
What behind scenes does world mark!

Fool’s gold is the money I make
It in a dream keeps me awake
Resplendent becomes the life I live
Happy in trance, more poems I make

Forgets me not the Supreme Being
In tipsy even alert is His watch
Fire, brimstone, whirlpools he mails
Write back I my poems on a buoying torch!