See! how coarse my days of lost memory to another's plight
that becharm the skies in seraph wings of gold,
of white bier to brave thine holy eyen;
that in secret influence comment in nurslings of immortality,
ere in the mellowing year her apparels in spring,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown at sunset of the evening sky,
some such snowflakes in winter cold to e'er melting snow,
hath rent a star at midnight lease in waking hour:
half-so-dumb, deaf to the ear of eyes so blind,
this world of thy most high deserts to my shipwrecked dreams,
that by the sweat of thy brow, my love, o'er the wall on high,
slowly drifting away from the sand dunes, where children make castles in the air;
a merry weather day at break of day arise from out of the blues in still waters,
of furrowed fields against the harvest moon in summer's prime
along the pavement of cow parsley, a drifting dream amiss,
that crow's quill of feathered mast-shaft at north.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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Tuesday, August 18,2015 5: 26: 08 PM