SONNET 691
By JH Sayyar
O silver-throated bard of twilight shade,
Thy song floats through dusky summer air,
A dream of joy in sorrow's tender braid,
A balm for hearts that heavy burdens bear
Neither throne nor crown, charm of the night,
Thy notes outshine courts of kings and men;
Thou sing where moonbeams spill their light,
And hush the world with music from thy glen.
What ancient pain does pour in every trill?
What ecstasy that mortals scarce can know?
Thy voice bends time, makes the forest still,
As if the stars themselves would cease to glow.
O! Immortal bird! In thee all beauty clings
Ah! A fleeting soul with everlasting wings
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