Needest not I such loving looks of parted hair
upon the sand dunes,
of ready-drawn arrow in beauty's prime;
the stars in secret influence comment
of thy most high deserts beside the oak,
ere in the mellowing spring her charms!
be of no use such scope to find those blushed roses,
of woe-begone days my shipwrecked dreams,
against heaven's high bower at Minerva's golden brow:
above the mundane in the late evening;
e'ery flower upon a barren heath in rosemary garden,
of ages that are dead in wild ecstasy of pure heaven,
bereft of eyes this world ere thine holy eyen,
more temperate than darling buds of may
away from what you hide from eternals,
I most my heart hath fed in nurslings of immortality.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2016.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Tuesday, February 23,2016 2: 15: 21 PM
Tuesday, February 23,2016 2: 19: 05 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem