Faded Glory Ii Poem by Naveed Khalid

Must I hide from eternals this world,
of eyes so blind to unending night,
that in full bright summer her beauty's fair,
half-so-ill, distempered brain to my mind still
of thought's most higher being, my love,
indeed! by thatch-eaves is run o'er the wall,
some watcher of the skies to my shipwrecked dreams,
that in white bier to brave thine holy eyen:
I most my heart hath fed in nurslings of immortality,
ah, awhile but to think on thee by two lovers dead;
where I my feet hath tread upon the mundane shell,
that crow's quill in thy graceful ease to a close afraid,
creates a myth from out of nothing, of whom, they say, not I,
but which to thy lost memory of another's plight,
ere in the mellowing year of spring grows old;
that man-in-the-moon under the Archangel's brow.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Saturday, August 22,2015 3: 52: 14 PM