Far from my view in grey matter of the mind
to where no feet hath tread,
of cut-out trees in the rainforest,
tinged with stars of old,
that bright-lit mirror in heaven's high bower;
of hideous looks so fair to this world forlorn
against bloody tyrant time,
e'ery passing minute by the dull lake in autumn leaves:
to e'er melting snow my shipwrecked dreams:
that in the mellowing year of spring
arise, arise at the pedestal of thy throne, my love,
more temperate than darling buds of may,
away from a russel in the wind in whose light hath fled,
oft marked by what I write in thy graceful ease,
not least by dark bewails the night,
that crow's quill at sunset of the evening sky,
more blessed of ages that are dead,
much too rendered in age-old grey
to unhindered scope of beauty abounds that day of unaltered eye.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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Date Created: Sunday, April 19,2015 8: 53: 42 PM