SONNET
Safdar Bhatti
Let a mellifluous soul, gentle lady, instill
a mellower dicourse thy bruised soul to embalm
to assuage the broils keenly vex thy calm
nay, sweetest of souls, feel not so ill
a new dawn yonder waits lavishly thy morrows
with a sundry hued bliss to adorn
thy evenings, and each dewy morn
where grip the tenderest souls no sorrows
what though the rude world has callous grown
come lets our own richest bigles blow
together, let the softest of notes flow
across thy ardent heart elate and blown
and partake the bliss the singular joy
un-heedful of the world and her coarse toy
