Far away in the country side,
An artist, a philosopher, a poet did reside,
Away from the buzz of the city life,
Honey-dew thoughts, like dripping from the beehive.
Thought he, as the dusk alights,
Of his blessed sombre peace,
He didn’t have to role-play the wright,
Mending affairs and to appease.
Thought he, as the dusk alights,
Of his blessed sombre peace,
Where life’s challenges play hide and seek,
His quaint life he delights.
Thought he, as the dusk alights,
Of his blessed sombre peace,
With more memories to make, people to love,
Without worry of crises or disease.
Thought he, as the dusk alights,
Of his blessed sombre peace,
Each day with thoughts beautiful and bright,
Nothing to wrinkle smooth thoughts with crease.
Thought he, as the dusk alights,
Of his blessed sombre peace,
When the hapless wept and cried,
He had a shoulder to give.
Thought he, as the dusk alights,
Of his blessed sombre peace,
He had more to give than deny,
Every moment well-spent in ease.
