Hillocks clad in soft green smock
Head and foot under sleet and fog
Zonked in cat-nap, like a bride
It’s a vista of the mountain’s pride
A royal banquet for any starving eyes
A feast on beauty, here, no man wise!
Last time when I saw this mountain
Depleted all of its ecstatic fountain
Smouldering in the scorching heat
As an old man’s head, bald and neat
The hot wind hovered over as a sigh
Hillocks with wistful looks at the sky
The meadows with fresh green look
The cattle grazing, a gaiety took
Nature’s book, full of varied pages
Manifests the Great Author’s images
We read and read and learn nothing
Nature’s music, we don’t let it sing
Charm and grace of feast and festivals
Remain fresh as they arrive at intervals