The verse in poetry is like a breeze in the middle of the blossoms; developing or becoming successful and beautiful; straying; to move away from the place where it should be without intending to. Where hope clung very hard to try and keep something like a bee. When the narrator was young, his life carried on, yet he clung to nature, hope and poetry. When he was young, when he was woefully bad and showing no skill, yet the drastic change came in between what was then and what it is now. The breathing house which was referred to his mortal body was not built with mortal hands but was created by God. Inspite of being a creation of God, it is too inclined towards sin and evil especially in the days of his youth.
His strong energetic body moves to the top of pleasant and airy cliffs and even to the glittering sands of deserts and beaches. To move like a flash of lightning, the trim skiffs that is unknown of yore on winding lakes; that bends a lot and is not straight; and wide rushing rivers. A body that does not need the help of sail or oar. That fears no spite; although something exist or happens; of the wind or tide. His body does not care for wind or weather when he and his youth live in it together. All flowers are lovely and beautiful in their own ways. Love is like a flower and friendship is like a sheltering tree. Before he had grown old he had remembered, the joys and blessings from heaven above that came down like a shower of friendship, love and liberty.
Before he entered his old age, he realized that his youth was no longer free. For so many sweet and energetic years that are full of vitality, it was known that his youth and his body were one. He would think it but a fond conceit; when he was too proud of himself and his actions; it cannot be that his youth had left neither him nor its vesper bell; departure bell; had tolled; rang slowly because youth had died. Youth is a bold masker that has put on a strange disguise to make everyone believe that it is gone. All that he sees now are the locks in silvery slips of grey curling of hair and the dropping gait of stooping or bent positioned body which has changed drastically. The spring tide blossoms of the poetic thoughts are still on the lips of his youth and the tears still take sunshine from its eyes. One’s thoughts make one’s life that proves the reason that he and his body are still one and the same inhabitants.
Dew drops are the precious gems of the morning for they symbolizes the coming day at hand and they are the mournful tears of the evening because they symbolize the end of the day and the beginning of darkness of the night. The pursue of hope helps us all to carry on in life but the one who gives up hope seals the end of life. Giving up hope only serves to make us sad which is often slow to take its leave like some guest who is a blood relation who may not be rudely asked to leave. Yet who has stayed too long to be welcomed and accepts the joke of the circle of life without the smile.