Methinks not the last scope of her night-long love
to a close afraid,
of e'ery departed look in cold serene
my shipwrecked dreams,
so vainly put! at midnight lease this world at my door,
still her muse in argument with thee, mate!
much too in largess of some thought alone
in thy presence the sun of our common affairs,
of days that are gone by time foretold,
ah, but to think thee better off my mind:
for since in leaveing thus I shall but remain as long as
time there is!
needest not I make haste to e'ery flower upon
a barren heath,
of esteemed grace thy most high deserts,
hath salt of seven seas in the late evening,
a bonefire, upon the sand dunes
of first falling winter snow,
the imprint of her princely steps by the sea-ashore
that day of unaltered eye in my bed pf crimson joy,
I still behold such darling buds of may
under the hedgerow of a cottage-tree.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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Date Created: Monday, June 27, 2016 8:27:37 PM