Was mine, those pleasure sparkling eyes, that brow
Was mine. Coming twenty years
Have crafted strange variations! Of the buddies n kiths
Who once appraised all miniatures,
And loved it for its semblance, some are gone
To their last homes, and some estranged.
But still these shades remain unchanged
Which wear a look of innocence and infancy.
Search of what I was, always
Goes in vain, wherein that mild face is lost
In my features today.
May be this picture was designed to be ornamented
Like this, to shine amid this world’s motley crowd,
To be cherished by me and
Honored by this solitary song….