Must I hide from eternals this world,
that in shape, colour, scheme or thing
of lost memory to another's plight;
not least be worthy of thy perusal,
a love-sick thought on thee,
ah, too but corrupts the mind
of looks so fair beyond the sunrise,
that from out of no where arise, arise:
of eyes so blind at sunset of the evening sky,
the reality of your dappled things ere thine unweird eyen,
that in the mellowing year of spring in heaven's high bower
to my reckoning days more bright by the sweat of thy brow;
that day of unaltered eye to e'er melting snow,
oft from cheek to cheek conspires against the sun,
above a firehurst, under the hedgerow of a cottage-tree,
that crow's quill of foul fawning bay at my door.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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All Rights Reserved.
Date Created; Monday, August 31,2015 7: 51: 33 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem