Melancholy…

Oh! How bright it was shining,

Giving that scorching heat.

And how he was sweating,

Standing on his blistered feet.

How sultry the day was,

And how laborious his life.

Striving the whole day,

To feed his children and wife.

Beneath the wrathy sky,

Having a parched throat.

Working for those small wages,

‘Cause his family-love was utmost.

Planting in Spring,

And harvesting in Autumn.

His work was arduous,

And life was solemn.

And what will happen,

To his dreams of gold,

Will they dry,

When life gets cold?

PRACHI