The Streams Of Delight Poem by Susmit Panda

The streams of delight so well thrive
From your eyes, whereupon I mine
Shall fix; forgive, if a glance should arrive
At your hands, and thereupon shine;
Sure, they might have much to lend:
Gold, and jade, and ruby, and sapphires fine,
And pearl, and emerald without end;
Yet, let me not make them baubles to wear
And bleat, 'Glory! Glory! '- ah, dire trend!
If bleat I must, let me not blare
Of fake glory, of thus gathering anew
From your hands, but let my soul share
Such pride, for this is triumph true,
That I've earned, not what you gave, but you.