Solitude

Much greed for show and fame Has put this age to shame: The glance is bright and clear, Heartʹs mirror, but is blear.

When zeal and zest for sight exceed their greatest height, Thoughts soar to highest point And soon are out of joint.

That vernal drop of rain The state of pearl canʹt gain If destined not to dwell, In lap of mother shell.

Retreat is blessed state ʹBout self gives knowledge great: Alas! this state divine, Isnʹt found in fane or shrine.