Not for lack of clear insight to my reckoning days,
But which in abundance of thy presence more great, my love,
Than where least I find in much dearth of thy most high deserts,
Full rich content of e'ery flower upon a barren heath;
Fills the page of eyes so blind through my unaltered eye,
Uneclipsed of e'ery fair from thy fairest brow:
This world of thy forfeited dark at break of day arise,
All wrapped in wanton tapestry, my son, in seraph wings of gold;
Brings forth to my sightless view nothing more than what I write
To fill the emptiness of my mind at white's lease in winter cold,
More blessed by such furtive looks than I can afford
Against time's tickling toes in solemn strain this barren rhyme.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created on: Wednesday, September 03,2014 2: 58: 06 PM
Title Revised from: A Wanton Boy To A Black Chicken
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
excelent thoughts,