This is a poem I first read in standard eight and didnt understand the depth of it for many years to follow, when I finally did understand it, the words were a part of the first page of my every notebook, written with a marker on the wooden paritions during my brief stint in hostel and then on collage in my room at home. I even developed a habit of scribbling the poem whenever I felt down and they did elevate my mood. So here it goes:
The Example
HERE'S an example from
A Butterfly;
That on a rough, hard rock
Happy can lie;
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.
Now let my bed be hard
No care take I;
I'll make my joy like this
Small Butterfly;
Whose happy heart has power
To make a stone a flower.
-W.H. Davies
