I'll not beweep my state of being an outcast wretch, O Poverty! Nor my decaying form has but past woe's deceased frame; Lost in the twilight 'gainst the mirror of thine eye, my love, Of transient nature's eclipsed doom to bloody tyrant time; The red moon's fiery flame burns in haystack of woods, Of fathom-five thy crackled bones, vanished in Hades of a star! Yet to debarr at heaven's gate, my bride, full rich content Of my pride looks to the world, of infinitesimal blessings; And in such that I honour most by what no prince's favourite, Has enough wits to prove in graceful ease a hundred mouthed grave, Still grows e'eryday to another ken, darkly lit in thy abode, This house of clay in dumb despair, a darksome dungeon.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2014. All Rights Reserved.
Date Created; Thursday, June 05,2014 6: 01: 50 PM
* Hi peeno21 profile rest56
Two : 50/50 for Rs. 60
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