Mistletoe

 What needst I this mirror that to my sightless view

Brings forth nothing but what I write of my own shadow;

Of what I can ne'er see, you have loved more than I,

And e'ery falling star in snowflakes to my mind still,

Whence all the panorama of this world in winter cold

Has no return, nor no darkling insight can bewail the night:

Behold! that day of past woe made new, blind of looks so fair,

Unlooked for love my Lord's light, a pilgrimage to thee,

Of virgin mother born this our common happy morn,

The Sun's eye in whose love e'erything flows to eternal bliss.

[Naveed Khalid]