Of Crow's quill, so far as my eyes can see,
And from blackening inkpot his ruffled feathers;
His cowboy hat of red-linen, my bride,
Something to wonder at the scarecrow in the field,
The nest ashore in the tree of naked branches,
Broods upon nurslings of immortality!
Where but by night asleep the stars
Of all the world at my door,
I count them each to an e'erlasting day:
Arise! arise! the lark at heaven's gate, sing!
And e'erything is still at Darien Peak,
All pen-pricked angels mirrored in thy abode,
Her enchanting slogans of disparity,
Ah! fill the cup with magic potion called, Ether,
Oft flows through unnerved blood in vein,
Her mental furniture of the mind;
Let the picture be put aside,
That of tongue-tied Muse her love,
Goes soaring high above the dale:
Arise! arise! the lark at heaven's gate, sing!
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
*Previous Title: Masque
Date Created: Thursday, February 27,2014 2: 27: 20 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem