Oft am I swayed by this novice feeling,
that in seraph wings of gold,
abides by a promising land of fairies;
privy of a secret beyond the sunrise,
no dark can e'er illumine that Mermaid
of many a love lost in the late evening,
her stumbled feet our bedtime stories tell
along the pavement of cow parsley:
hath left her imprint upon the sand dunes,
of ages that are dead in my bed of crimson joy;
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown,
darkly lit in thy abode under the haven,
that boat by the riverside in timeless tide
against the harvest moon to e'er melting snow,
visits places far-off by the sea-ashore,
that crow's quill of my shipwrecked dreams.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights(C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Thursday, October 29,2015 2: 27: 54 PM
Thursday, October 29,2015 2: 24: 25 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem