The thoughts are parting ways,
The thoughts, I own, like one and all,
It’s running away to the nature side,
I suppose, it is spell bounded indeed,
By beauty of nature which the god feeds
The splendor god created alone
And still he is working on and on…
Oh! What an awe inspiring caricature.
Deep in the woods there rests, in dark forests,
The novel creations of human thought.
Like a child, here the thoughts run wild;
How valiantly they, Wordsworth and Milton,
Caught there thoughts and wrote, I fail in that
As my thought run wild among the wild.
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