the photographer was willing,but in vain.

so moving was the burnished tint of a shade,

as we sat to pose for the shot to be made

until the omni-eye,lens in a swift closed,

for our multi-faces,packed in a vaulted arcade.*

it was never,as you see,a floating tinsel,

of an outspoken poignancy of tawdry null.

the camera man started his usual chores:

"all have their own freedom to unfold a smile

that makes the world in compassion,so frail;

the sun,prepares the clouds from dusts silvern;

the stars,crusts of starlight,when moon faint;

the moon,spreads chilly sheet of light,plaint;

while from end to end their shines trial-

what all they do is but a smile,a single smile,

along with the eastern line of the dawn,

the tranquil hues of the dusk,void of frown.

what all they do is but a smile,a single smile."

he did not know,now and then,in styles

fall on the spellbound,were these smiles,

to strewn and scatter on their life,silly,

to make them dream visions,to gild the lily-

for,let me say,as the camera man spoke thus,

our dark shades fell on the screen,useless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*camera