Harvest Moon I

Lo! this last of leaf against thine eye,
Fell from myrtle in her bed on summer's eve;
That through golden Minerva's autumn breath
Bespeaks of my love for thee, that evening sky,
And still makes the sun shine across heaven and earth,
By day is cast out, by night a shadow
Of candle-lit stars before the holy-moly moon,
Her bewildering attire is in my wings of poesy.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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All Rights Reserved.

Date Created: hursday, January 24,2013 5: 09: 21 PM

by Naveed Khalid

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