Naveed Khalid


The Emerald Isle

What needest I this mirror that shows not half thy part,
Of ages that are dead under the Archangel's brow?
That through emerald eyes of titanic visions afar,
You paint me the picture of thy most high deserts,
Some unreflected Being, hid away from out of sight,
Hath beset many a maiden garden ere thine unweird eye:
Uneclipsed of looks so fair, my mind, by what I write,
Oft illumines more bright where least I find my love, abides by thee alone;
To fill the emptiness of e'ery fallin

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