This world of what I write to my love so blind,
bereft of e'ery look that by looks more bright
than if from a bowl of stars you drink;
away from out of sight that to my mind still,
of another rent at midnight lease in waking hour;
pours forth in e'erything to that day of unaltered eye,
a man of all seasons that of wanton tapestry at thy throne:
needest no light in dismal shades of age-old grey;
uneclipsed of e'ery fair from thy fairest brow,
oft in three beats of my heart's forfeited dark,
tolls the bell at my door in the early morn.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014.
All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Date Created: Monday, October 13,2014 7: 49: 11 PM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem