Pride
A Aniruddha Pathak
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That which stays within,
As modest self-pride is seen;
And what overflows,
What, in the name of noise goes,
As conceit one knows.
Birds both of the same feather,
When face same weather,
One's sure, dithers whilst the ‘ther.
I know you sing so well,
But not know why all this show,
A shy little nightingale
To a peacock in full flow,
I heard this to tell.
Bu şiiri puanla
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