Sonnets
Contents
On Scents, One Early Tuesday Afternoon
Oh, to die in sweet ecstatic rush
From am'thyst crystal dollhouse scents, soft breezed;
Which 'gainst my touchless skin doth faintly brush
And tickling thereupon, my heart is pleased.
Then wafting slow away, my body teased
By satin gravel tumbling on my skin,
My tremulous enrapturing unceased
While lavender mists touch my soul within;
My mind is set to wander, Is't a sin
To die of kisses, ecstasy and charms
When such a gentle odor 'cross the chin
So subtly and so easily disarms?
Can such a simple pleasure do such harms
That such a simple man not to it warms?
The Lament
Weep not for me, my love; you know 'tis true
That all my life I've had but one desire
That I have prayed for oft beneath the spire
And half of which was granted me in you.
But time goes on, as plodding through a mire,
And still, the other half of my heart's dreams
Has not arrived, and will not (so it seems);
Though I'll not leave, nor make myself a liar.
But when I see a mother as she beams
With joy and love, her beauteous babe to see,
Then light and warmth and sorrow all fill me;
And tears pour from my woeful eyes like streams.
For though I'm glad to find a wife in thee,
To be fulfilled, I must a father be.
Untitled
What magic is within you, dearest love!
That you entrance and also mystify;
Your grace and beauty, surely from above,
You've wit and charm that no one can deny.
You are most pleasing to my humble eye,
Your voice doth charm my ear; I am full struck
That you are always mine; I wonder why?
I am amazed that I have had such luck.
I am full pleased that with you, I am stuck;
You play me as a flutist plays a flute
As from my heart, the sweetest notes you pluck,
And all aside from you is rendered moot.
Were I a great oak tree, with leafy shoot,
Then you would be my greatest, strongest root.
To My Queen
Milady, that we are alike in kinds,
Though we may differ as the eve from day;
For we two have like weight upon our minds,
To leave behind, there ‘pears no pleasant way.
For hither, I’m, and thither, thou art liked;
And would we could, our friends, their love return.
But should we do, our friendship would be spiked
With bitter poison; all our lives would burn.
My magics are no use; thy woman’s guile
Prove useless now, when now we need them most.
Oh whither shalt become of us? But smile!
Anon we shall be learned, then rest our ghost.
By whichsoever god’s with us, the each,
May friendship and our happiness not breach.
Rebuttal
T’was said, to battle not with monsters, lest
A monster ye become; well said. But still,
If I should battle not with them, who will?
To leave these beasts uncheckèd seems not best.
It is a noble duty to fulfill.
T’was said as well that if I gaze in the
Abyss, it gazes also into me;
But I am not afraid. What does not kill
Me makes me stronger. And timidity
Won’t pardon him who does not as he should.
A problem can’t be solved misunderstood;
Give him respect who acts courageously.
Protecting oneself by not doing good
Will make a man unworthy of knighthood.
Ode to York
It was almost two thousand years ago,
And in a station where two rivers met,
The Romans built a fort beside the flow;
The Place of Yews became its epithet.
Through many peoples did this site expand:
The Saxons, Vikings, Normans, more as well,
Have added to the stories of this land,
As to an ample city did it swell.
For splendour and for beauty is it known;
What secrets of the past does it still hide
Beneath the buildings made of wood or stone?
But one thing never hidden is its pride.
Though time may end, the Earth may be unmade,
The love we feel for York shall never fade.
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