मैं धरती का फटना देख रहा हूँ / Main Dharati Ka Phatna Dekh Raha Hoon
July 5, 2023More Poets Yet!
July 5, 2023On The Hurry Of This Time
With slower pen men used to write,
Of old, when “letters” were “polite”;
In Anna’s, or in George’s days,
They could afford to turn a phrase,
Or trim a straggling theme aright.
They knew not steam; electric light
Not yet had dazed their calmer sight; —
They meted out both blame and praise
With slower pen.
Too swiftly now the hours take flight!
What’s read at morn is dead at night;
Scant space have we for Art’s delays,
Whose breathless thought so briefly stays,
We may not work — ah! would we might! —
With slower pen.