I'll not in vain words to precious minutes waste
her musings o'er the dale,
of subservient nature's most ardent desire
to fill the page with what I least contend;
our esteemed Poet but to thee suffice, my love,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown
at Minerva's golden brow!
against the world of thy most high deserts,
I still behold that day of unaltered eye:
lo! in thy graceful ease more bright,
than least by thy name I can e'er know thee,
that moves afoot to eternal bliss in waking hour;
while in thy presence alone I am looking, looking
through titanic visions afar,
of ages that are dead to my eyes so blind,
oft makes haste in my bed of crimson joy
at sunset of the evening sky,
away from out of sight to my mind still
e'ery flower upon a barren heath to the west wind in autumn.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Monday, January 12,2015 11: 58: 32 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem