Of woe-begone days that by love too deep
her violet blues in the grey evening,
of eyes so blind beyond the sunrise;
to e'er melting snow my shipwrecked dreams,
that crow's quill beside, of broken mast-shaft at north,
besmeared with time some such snowflakes in winter cold
against the harvest moon by the sweat of thy brow,
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown ere thine unweird eyen.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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Date Created: Monday, August 03,2015 2: 18: 42 PM