A Bridal Dress Poem by Naveed Khalid

Wherefore oft bemoaning passions run wild,
that in my retiring room,
no heart can afford in solemn or strain
this dull rhyme of deserted looks
to my mind still in argument with thee;
of woe-begone days my shipwrecked dreams,
no dark can e'er illumine in the late evening,
beside the bed of aok at Minerva's golden bow:
while the world of thy most high deserts,
seekest no revenge of a star that in secret influence comment,
of untread places far-off beyond the sunrise
against e'ery stealing charm bereft of sight,
thy blessings more bright under the Archangel's brow;
else from off thy loving grace of beauty's bride,
her eyes be red in the morning's pure serene,
where blue-bells hang by the door of hundred years from hence.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Tuesday, December 01,2015 5: 47: 31 PM

Title Revised: From A Bridal Dress To A Change of Calendar