Poetry

There is a glade full of flowers, 
Like a new, decorated bride, 
Winds blows slowly, it showers, 
Enjoying nature on steed I ride, 
In woods I reach happily by and by, 
But forced me to pause the deepest sigh.

Bewildered I turn back and see, 
A pretty lady in ragged attires, 
And sobbing under a bald tree, 
To ask her well being, I'm on fire, 
'Who are you and why here? I'm keen, 
Why in ragged dress, mourning thou seen? '

Wiping her tears, she begins to speak, 
'I'm humanity, for what they proud, 
But have forgotten me, so I'm weak, 
Before my death they folded me in shroud, 
From the beats somehow I've taken flight, 
And now you see me in miserable plight.'