this is the first poetry of mine written when i was in class twelfth. I hope everyone would appreciate my small piece of endeavor

Legend of the noble mistress

Part I

The beauty of the mistress remained a virgin toward,
The peace and passion being untouched,
Lovely forms didst flow,
With nay apprehension and frustration,
Save chirruping and the buoyant spirit.

Greenery remained the queen toward,
Crowned with blooming white daffodils,
Scented was the atmosphere with rd roses and lilies,
Heavenly, divinely symphony of nature did follow by her fellow mates
And thus was thee greeted, the orange faced groom,
-the prince of the Far Land, land far far.

Blushed became the beautiful and the bountiful
-blue mistress by the very vision of His,
Her eyes like angels’s rode on Him still,\
Her brows like bended bows didst stand,
Ah! Shining she by the light of His- the valiant Warrior.

Henceforth, was she made subdued,
Ye see the mistress owned by the valiant Warrior of the Far Land.

Rose didst the king from the royal air of fantasy,
“O! Mistress Mine, I wouldst go my far-land”,
Said He.

Alas! went He.
Black did turn the noble mistress, poured was the water thro’ her eyes

Nevertheless, came He the next morn,
And didst see He, the etched face of her-
In colours seven distinct.
‘O! Mistress mine, the noblest you cried
Am I not a warrior?”

Part II

Seasons imitated meteors in speed,
Save, kept was constant the dove.
Nevertheless came every morn he,
To meet His lovely goddess.

Emerged was the new species,
on the banks of the Nile-the Man;
Became She the mama,
Enjoyed the harmless age of his with watery eyes,
Nourished him with love and shelter she,
And there goes to history
Innocent age of her infant.

Emerged her juvenile son in crux,
Alas! Myth became his innocence,
Had he many brothers annually,
Save, loath growth only finally.

Green became he with jealousy,
Land, land, only he searched for,
Missiled the white dove he,
Neither did he account the great Head,
Why bother neck?

Didst forget man the old mistress- his mama,
Mourned for the prince- the fairies of the far land,
How happened to mistress this
To own the man in womb of hers?”, said they.

Bounced against the nature’s chime,
Broke the fair music of nightingale,
No stars didst I see,
No love being left after.

Cared for his dying brothers never he
Dived the Atlantic for crown he
Died never for brother he
Alas! Of single origin we,
Why not harmonize we?