Largess of some thought that by thought more blessed thy Muse,
Than by love of what I write in thy graceful ease, but to thee suffice;
But O! for one look on thee through e'ery pouring shadow, my bride,
That in living memory more bright to illumine in summer's pride,
Bestowing twice by canker and a rose, full rich content of that forfeited dark:
I fain would bring to the page of eyes so blind thy most high deserts,
All but for sake of thee alone, needest no wanton tapestry at thy throne;
Else in solemn strain this barren rhyme at the gallows of thy feet,
Leaves of autumn in a phantom of chaliced wings to a star-lit night;
Hath o'erturned e'ery vain thing, so vaguely imprinted on my mind,
Oft steals such darling buds of May from e'ery fair ere thine unweird eye:
Which if from a bowl of stars you drink, of yonder looks her silken-satin,
Away! away! from the boat that rocks her bed of crimson joy in winter cold;
The golden strand around your head at break of day arise by the western isle.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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Date Created: Tuesday, September 09, 2014 3:54:50 PM