A Rut By Swana's Lake Poem by Naveed Khalid

Of lasting years this dust-covered page of thy book,
unfolds my glorious days in the late evening,
still hath her first falling winter snow,
pricked with a furr coat in the cellar barn,
of haystack and straw some dry leaves in autumn;
fell from myrtle in my bed of crimson joy,
a fairly lost scope that to a land of fairies abides,
away from e'ery departed look her stumbled feet
upon the sand dunes, the imprint of yore eye:
hung aloft the ghastly night in nurslings of immortality,
seest I my shipwrecked dreams beyond the sunrise,
from off thy ancient lyre at midnight lease this world all woe;
needest no paradisaical injunctions beside the oak,
fair weather days in the mellowing spring,
like to the lark at break of day arise, arise,
that tolls the bell at my door of rosemary garden
against thy most high deserts awakes me to a dumb despair,
under the hedgerow of a cottage-tree, our little john,
of fickle foe's fiddle that blows the trumpet horn
in counting prayers thy blessings more such darling buds of may,
hath frost and hue in the morning's pure serene,
of eclipsed doom to bloody tyrant time.

(C)Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Monday, May 23,2016 1: 04: 35 PM