What of her glass without her? The blank grey
There where the pool is blind of the moon’s face.
Her dress without her? The tossed empty space
Of cloud-rack whence the moon has passed away.
Her paths without her? Day’s appointed sway
Usurped by desolate night. Her pillowed place
Without her? Tears, ah me! for love’s good grace,
And cold forgetfulness of night or day.What of the heart without her? Nay, poor heart,
Of thee what word remains ere speech be still?
A wayfarer by barren ways and chill,
Steep ways and weary, without her thou art,
Where the long cloud, the long wood’s counterpart,
Sheds doubled darkness up the labouring hill.
-Dante Gabriel Rossetti
BHARAT AZAD HUA THA
दूसरा पाकिस्तान कहलाया था|
pal pal mera dil ghabrata hai
Problem On The Holidays
On New Year's Day, my cat ran away
Hope Is The Thing With Feathers
"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
The Perfect Little Town
The little town was the perfect little town,
When I First Saw You
Vulnerable before I found you
A Freind Like You
A friend like you is always there
Love In Your Eyes
When I am looking into your eyes,
Relations...
Relationships are like lemons,
What Lies
