Vespers - Poem by Naveed Khalid
By what words I pluck at thy heartstrings,
That Ovid's veneral Amores run in deep sorrows;
And through Roman blood of royal lineage,
In whose much too strain'd wreckage of a nerve,
Cut through a sharp knife for smooth sailing,
Of all that hath pass'd o'er in a twilight dream!
But by love is bound his reverberations in the mind,
Whose drop of vintage cools the morning sun;
Not less than a song of cupid's far-fetch'd arrow
When crescent bow at his knee touched the ground,
A ballad dance of black swan's ethereal wings,
Are long depart'd in sweet-scent'd sickness thus.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2012.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Saturday, December 29,2012 1: 19: 35 PM
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