Shakespeherian Rag Ii Poem by Naveed Khalid

It is this dream of the world I long for,
And expect nothing than miracles
Through e'eryday happenings:
Such mind of surpassing wits thy brow
Of far-fetched sky in haystack of woods,
Against time's eternal hour!
The crow that picks crumbs at my window,
Of a hundred shadows by the grave,
Hath writ her chalice wings of gold,
That, love, thy age-old visage hides;
No matter what the odds are to my reckoning days,
I'll but serve Lord's work to the ending doom.

(C) Naveed Khalid

Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: Saturday, March 29,2014 4: 25: 57 PM