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If stripped of poetry my life would cease,
Its beating heart fall still within my breast.
Without the blossoms of rhyme brought to increase
The garden of my mind, in barrenness dressed.
No more would flow'ring words their beauty spread,
Nor colours rich the blank page decorate.
In silence and in gloom my days then led,
Creativity's gifts no more my soul sate.
For poetry lifts my soul to raptures high
And gives sweet form to fancies of the heart.
Without its magic all delights die
And from this world I’m doomed to part.
It nourishes my being's core design -
Deprive me of its boon, naught else will shine.