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urdu poetry

muffled drum's sad roll has beat
the arches of the red bridge
be not angry with me
a storm is riding on the tide
with the meek, brown eyes
i saw the clouds among the hills
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
looking beyond
birds against the april wind
i heard the wind all day
in halls of sleep you wandered by
here lies a most beautiful lady
night is dark, and the winter winds

 



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