Of unchartered depths to my mind still in graceful ease,
Alone but to father her gracious muse at Matilda's farm,
Away from out of sight, my love, in dreary night's cold repose;
This embassage of what I write thee in sweet-scented letters,
While of churl bones her ornaments do shine so bright
To morning's pure serene against that forfeited dark
E'ery flower upon a barren heath through hurtlings of past woe:
Oft in preciouse minutes waste the world of ages that are dead,
Of our dear old folks to blackened earth's infernal grave;
Alas, too soon shall fade beneath the bed of crimson joy,
That in Hades of a star to my eyes so blind her elliptical illusions,
My mother beside, to a soil from homeland in my country rhymes.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Friday, November 21,2014 3: 10: 38 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem