Sunday, April 15, 2012

Sonnets fron the Cycle of Man IV

Thou hast coldly rejected th' infinite
Love of my tender heart, my overtures
Have been ignored, thy vanity will fit
Ye an eternity, cursing the curs
Ever at thy feet, yapping for one glance,
But what makes this ignored devotion
     worthwhile?
Thy rich beauty put me in mystic trance,
Thy fair skin, thine amber eyes, set to trial
Virtue itself; thy red lips burn bright.
Ah!  No good, I'm in love with coldness itself;
But ne'er fear, I'll set my loneliness aright.
I'll make you live forever, I must confess;
     Your face painted in all its aloof glory.
     Your soul penned telling its entire cold
            story.
  

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