No more by what you think I can ne'er know,
Such subtle thought in reverse reflexion,
That by e'ery fair face you still behold,
And to my mind hath weaved
A laurel wreath thy myrtle crown
Of all vicissitudes of the sky!
Not least to desecrate thine holy eye, love,
Something to wonder at thy golden brow;
The world is deemed to uplift the veil
Of what by night to stars hath rent,
This mirror that shows not half thy part,
Doth thy age-old visage hide.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
*Republished
Date Created: Saturday, April 05,2014 2: 23: 21 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem