WISER THAN ANY VERSIFIER: THE TREE
No poet, it is said, can craft in perfect verse
By endeavoring, a poem as lovely as a tree
For his attempts, the blessed tree is none the worse--
It can simply augment its own beauty for free !
In care, minding its charm is not a curse !
But our pugnacious poet is a self-styled bard---
Success is ever ensured only by trying hard...
So, he permutated and juggled around the word;
Rotated, rolled over in combinations literally unheard
For, he was convinced he was the muse's favorite ward !
The munificent tree gently holds on to its breezy charm
Knowing in its wisdom that the eager little man will not harm
Anyone---at best, he goes around in circles, then may tire
When tepid turns his quill's thrust---dousing the belly-fire,
Our chastened versifier hastens under the waiting tree, to retire