When all too weird with what I behold to my mind still,
of e'er melting snow in the mellowing year of spring;
where but unhindered scope of beauty abounds,
I most my eyes hath fed with age-old love,
that in full abundance of thy presence alone,
the sun in deep azure at sunset of the evening sky,
brings forth to my sightless view e'ery flower upon a barren heath
against that forfeited dark in Hades of a star:
too, but bereaved of light my shipwrecked dreams
of broken mast-shaft at north by the sea-ashore,
that crow's quill of my darkened days to some rivulet blue,
hath brought me to this end at Minerva's golden brow;
some vulgar paper to rehearse that day of unaltered eye,
more bright upon the sand dunes thy most high deserts,
ah, too deep for woe at the golden banks of silken satin,
to my e'erliving memory thy gilded monument astounds.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Sunday, April 05,2015 4: 30: 52 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem