You're but the presager of mine eye, more eloquent!
Of timeless tide her love of burning gold;
And in words, too, hath served the painter's art,
What oft by ghastly night is marked by thee,
That grows by e'ery passing minute a star!
Has nothing than this fedora of your dream:
All roses fade, withered from their cheeks all red,
The desert in my eyes with salt of seven seas,
From afar by world's wit to prove my bride,
Still virtuous than I, by pen hath writ more great,
More to eternal bliss her sightless view apart,
Beset from dark her abode in full-bright summer.
(C) Naveed Khalid
Copy Rights (C) 2013.
All Rights Reserved.
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Comments about this poem (Summer's Eve by Naveed Khalid )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Ernest Henley
(1849 - 1902)
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