Lord! whence else oft I beget this dream,
So off-hand in the corn field a belat'd sight
Of unicorn's golden hour at midnight waking,
That his shoe-horse by the stable lay barefooted;
And that journey stretch'd across the skyline,
Above his head where the crown of a starless night,
I still can behold in the mirror of thine eye,
Cruising through the world a charioteer wild:
O blow that! which in a drop of vintage hides,
His looks of cold serene in haystack of woods.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2013.
All Rights Reserved.
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