Thus, love that bids me go the way of all flesh,
Ere beauty's look besmeared more with time,
That e'en sickness broods on thy sweet-scented silence;
To mourn e'ery checked note of my dropping pulse,
Oft vacant of such empty vessels by the sea-ashore,
Of what in my anchored rhyme still abides by thee alone:
Not least to weigh the air in waste of words, my mind,
Alas, too shall but fade away by a fleeting shadow.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Wednesday, November 05,2014 2: 24: 17 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem