Thus, happy I of fair weather days
in the mellowing spring,
from sullen earth arise, arise,
thinly wrapped around my head,
her atoms of beauty at break of day,
a white swan's ethereal Wing that weighs the air;
in solemn or strain this dull rhyme
to eternal bliss, of coral made,
heaven-ward bent my shipwrecked dreams:
awakes but a wonder in thine holy eyen, sweet maid!
of fealty's Apollo at my door, a rosemary garden
against e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
my sweet-scented letters unto the spine
of a book leaf in autumn;
no dark can e'er illumine this world
of thy most high deserts,
above the mundane, a spurious reasoner's mind,
beside the oak, a broccoli, in the late evening;
of clay and wattle-made thistles by the stream,
in wild ecstasy of pure heaven, our little john,
under the Archangel's brow of e'ery departed look
by the clover-beach,
her stumbled feet upon the sand dunes,
be my only woe thy iron car at Matilda's farm,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2016.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, March 28,2016 1: 26: 02 PM
Monday, March 28,2016 1: 28: 42 PM
Monday, March 28,2016 1: 31: 19 PM
Monday, March 28,2016 1: 33: 30 PM
Monday, March 28,2016 1: 35: 55 PM
Monday, March 28,2016 1: 17: 34 PM
Monday, March 28,2016 1: 55: 08 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem