This poem is a reply poem for P.B Shelley's masterpiece To A Skylark.

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O' man what art thou praising?

Praise not me but the One 

Who is always able of creating

More wonders under the sun

By uttering a single word of creation

My flight is nothing when compared

With His infinite miracles

He is truly the one uncompared

There are no such oracles

Which would be able to see the future samples

The sun rises and sets only

When He has given his consent

Those who are pious and holy

Know that it has been sent

To rest and then it is time for the crescent

I was made to be care free

And sing such melodious strains

So that man would know its He

Who has given thee a brain

So use it and then see where Nature refrains.

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