Early Birds Poem by Naveed Khalid

No, not I that in wild ecstasy of pure heaven,
of eclipsed doom to bloody tyrant time,
o'ershadowed by night under the archangel's brow;
of darkened days my shipwrecked dream,
that star of thy most high deserts,
illumines more bright of what I write against the setting sun,
darkly lit in thy abode a few dry leaves of book in autumn,
a compassed ark, a table, a lamp under the hedgerow of a cottage-tree:
bereft of eyes so blind steals looks from my bed of crimson joy:
where all doors are shut but thy door in rosemary garden,
of snow-capped myrtle by the sea-ashore,
slowly drifting away from the sand dunes, my love,
o'er the wall on high by two lovers dead,
of chiseled bones that soldier's grave unknown, heaven-ward bent,
needest no light e'ery flower upon a barren heath,
that crow's quill beside, along the pavement of cow parsley.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Date Created: Sunday, August 30,2015 6: 59: 54 PM