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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
man and his worth.

Submitted: November 09, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 09, 2011



Wordsworth's nightingale struck a dispute with my little warbler,

that man is nothing more than an empty gobbler,

he drinks his sorrows in the night,

loses his power and his might,

Wordsworth too was never rosy,

he had filled loss of spirituality in his poetry,

my warbler struck a note of true compassion,

he said with man, lies his passion,

the niht of sorrows, too, become his might,

he thinks and cries,but in the morning he feels light,

he loses his spirituality but becomes intellectual,

he cries unlike us, this makes him actual,

Wordsworth too, never had it wrong,

in his loss he found his song,

my little warbler struck the note,

in man he has learnt to dote.

© Copyright 2017 rosh winchester. All rights reserved.

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