Say not that verses chide, ensnared
at white's lease,
presenteth nought in yellow-pages of history
e'ery fig leaf in autumn wind
with pen-pricked angels, my love,
of thy most high deserts;
no dark can e'er illumine
under the Archangel's brow
that star of the milkyway:
opes a garden unto my unweird eyen
at sunset of the evening sky,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown
along the pavement of cow parsley,
of furrowed fields against the harvest moon,
still burning, burning in haystack of woods,
that crow's quill thy gilded monument astounds;
parked beside the clover beach
thy iron-car at matilda's farm
of unattended looks in waking hour,
that day of unaltered eye I behold, I behold.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2015.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Friday, October 16,2015 4: 06: 25 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem