Sandrine Sonnet Cycle 2005 Copy Lxxi - Cl Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Notes: 11 October 2005

This entire acrostic rewriting of the Shakespeare Sonnet sequence was both meant to be and was taken as more an intellectual challenge than an emotional statement, and took around 11 days from start to finish between mid and end October 1992

Where there are some alliterative sonnets there is not necessarily a transcription of Shakespeare’s ‘original sonnets’ as, from memory, the wish to introduce some different colouring triumphed over strict following of the dotted line.

Some of the initial transpositions are no longer extant having been lost through a computer crash which also claimed around 500 other poems.


2nd Edition September’s sun remembers August heat
I Sweet, from the fairest creatures we desire
II Shall ever Winter snows besiege thy brow
III See in the mirror my reflection there
IV Such loveliness as yours one should not hoard
V Summer's spent while Winter's cold approaches
VI Self-willed no longer stay, thou art too fair
VII Sun in the East, the gorgeous morning light
VIII Sweet with sweet strives not, why should joy with joy
IX Single remaineth thou lest widow's tears
X Shame should cheek burn, in turn admired by many
XI Stir up the muddy waters of my mind
XII Since daily do I clock hard knocks of time
XIII So if, sweet love, thy life be like a book
XIV Stars and cards cannot my judgement rule
XV Strange seems it that each thing takes time to grow
XVI Stone flakes to sand, and mountains melt to mould
XVII So who'll believe my verse in times to come
XVIII Shall I compare her to a summer's day
XVIII BIS Shall I compare thee to a game of chess
XVIII TER Shall I compare thee? In what galaxy
XIX Swift-footed Time speeds on with open jaws
XX Soft woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
XXI So is it not with me as with that Muse
XXII So long as you and youth stay of one date,
XXIII So as an actor, stage-fright suffering
XXIV Strong hand has played the painter here to lend
XXV So let those who seem lucky in their stars
XXVI Sovereign she to whose fidelity
XXVI Bis Sovereign Lord, to whom I'm vassal sworn
XXVII Stark, strained from work, I will me to my bed
XXVII Bis Strained with toil I coil within my bed
XXVIII Separate from you, what sorry plight
XXIX Star-cross'd, fortune lost, tossed on Fate's wave
XXX Sometimes in sessions of unhappy thought
XXXI So why that promise of a Sunday tea
XXXII Should you survive the number of my days
XXXIII So many splendid mornings have I seen
XXXIV So was that tea-time promise made in play
XXXV Stop, no longer grieve, believe! Who cares
XXXVI Shall I confess that we two must be twain
XXXVII Shirking to show my worth I take delight
XXXVIII So long as Love breathes life into the breast
XXXIX So how, without self-praising, can I sing
XL Strip all my former loves, I'll all reveal
XLI Should Muse to music set thy symphony
XLII Send me a smile! - I'll really go to town
XLIII Sweet, though I blink, I'll never blinkered be,
XLIV Should Chance or base design divide us twain
XLV So though from all four elements you're drawn
XLVI See you the struggles 'twixt my heart and mind
XLVII Struggles cease as heart and eye ally
XLVIII Streams start as springs, soon into rivers stream
XLIX Spare self from sorrow let not my defects
L Sadly I journey onward into night
LI Shall then my love forgive my constant calls
LII So am I as the wealthy man whose key
LIII She hungry makes where most she satisfies
LIV Sweet beauty shines as brighter ornament
LV Sometimes I dream you'll leave the door ajar
LVI So is it error where I would draw near
LVII Servant of her wishes and desire
LVIII So God forbid the day that sees me thine
LIX Sundry inventions of technology
LX So do our minutes hasten to their end
LXI Slumbers at thy pressing wish are broken
LXII Sin of self-love was mine until we met
LXIII Sunset sends shadows, yet an inner light
LXIV Steamroller strange is Time, so prompt to wreak
LXV Some thoughts like playful kittens trip ahead
LXVI Such separation leaves my senses weak
LXVII Spontaneous these feelers here I send
LXVIII Should there be nothing new beneath the sun
LXIX Strong is my faith, and each wraith from the Past
LXX Slander's spite to quality's attracted
LXXI So do not mourn for me when I am dead
LXXII Should the cruel world oblige thee to recite
LXXIII Sad Autumn turncoat sheds its coat of leaves
LXXIV So be content, for when the verdict's cast
LXXV So are you to my soul as food to life
LXXVI So far from innovations, easy change
LXXVII Sad lines reflected show how beauties wear,
LXXVIII So often I've invoked thee as my Muse
LXXIX Sweet love thy face, the fountainhead of grace,
LXXX See how I stall when my poor pen would write
LXXXI Shall I survive if you refuse to make
LXXXII Since you were never married to my Muse
LXXXIII Strange as it sounds I felt you'd never need
LXXXIV Speech serves no turn, what can give pleasure more
LXXXV Speech is held silver, silence gold is found,
LXXXVI Seductive, someone peacock played, his verse
LXXXVII So leave! Farewell! Thou art for my possessing
LXXXVIII Should thou my efforts mock, set all to light
LXXXIX Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault
XC Spurn me and my plea if out of place
XCI Some glory in their birth, some in their skill
XCII Steal not away, coeval is thy life
XCIII Shall I survive if we apart remain
XCIV Such as have power to hurt, yet do not so
XCV Shame turns to bliss, and blame's a-miss if you
XCVI Some say thy fault is youth and wantonness
XCVII So like the winter has thy absence been
XCVIII Spring called this year, discovered we'd not met
XCIX Sweet thief whence didst thou steal thy sweet
C So where did you slip off to, truant Muse
CI Speak truant Muse, how will you make amends
CII Strong is my love although no strength is seeming
CIII Scope for self-pride's apparent in this work
CIV Seen through my eyes you never can grow old
CV So let not love be called idolatry
CVI Should in the chronicles of wasted time
CVII Still will this fancy stay thy monument
CVIII So as time serves fine wine so this serves thee
CIX Say not that ever I was false at heart
CX So much 'tis true, I've gadded here and there
CXI Start and finish for me are the same
CXII Scandal's stamped your image on my brow
CXIII Since I met you my eye is in my mind
CXIV Such angelic qualities as yours
CXV Such lines I wrote before were outright lie
CXV So are our revels ended, and the game
CXVI So do not to the marriage of true minds
CXVI bis Law of this world
CXVII Say that on the others I have bent my eye
CXVIII Something sings within me when I think
CXIX Still losing when myself I sought to win
CXX Sensing old unkindness helps me now
CXXI Spend time elsewhere, share not thy days with me
CXXII So many gifts to praise, so little space
CXXIII So, Time, If mockery there be, I mock
CXXIV Should this, my love, be held as wishful thinking
CXXV So turn the old Khayyam and from his cup
CXXVI Sickled Time is sick with jealousy
CXXVII Stale seems all praise with, dripping from the pen
CXXVIII So often when thy smallest thoughts caress
CXXIX Shakespeare too often failed to understand
CXXX Sun shines far brighter than do Sandrine's eyes
CXXXI Swift in succession speed sweet thoughts when I
CXXXII Some seek to turn impressions inside out
CXXXIII Stolen from myself, in jail to lie
CXXXIV Stay of execution do I seek
CXXXV Some find, in seeking, pleasure undefined
CXXXVI Severed from all but vocal echo, I
CXXXVII Sweet Cupid what have you done to my eyes
CXXXVIII Should she swear she be one with Time and Truth
CXXXIX Say that you love another if you can
CXL Sorrow lends me words which here express
CXLI Suffice it that you know 'tis not my eyes
CXLII Second thoughts tentacle sticky fingers
CXLIII Studied style, like polished mirror glass
CXLIV So here's confessed, my heart and head are thine
CXLV Soft lips that Love's own hand did make
CXLVI Sad soul, mad centre of my sinful earth
CXLVII Sense, sensibility, so sweetly signed
CXLVIII Surprise seduction signals siren song
CXLIX Sometimes surprising sweetness sweeps souls shy
CL Single state seems seemly, some souls state
CLI Swain to shepherdess sent gentle posy
CLII Show me another who thy praise has penned
CLIII Sweet Cupid laid his bow down, fell asleep
CLIV Shrew Tamed, All's Well, though her is Much Ado
CLV Simplicity was ne'er my claim to fame

ALPHABETICAL ORDER
CXVI bis Law of this world
LXXIX Sabbath day does herald due repose
LXXIII Sad Autumn turncoat sheds its coat of leaves
LXXVII Sad lines reflected show how beauties wear,
L Sadly I journey onward into night
CXLVI Sad soul, mad centre of my sinful earth
XCVI Sail set to wet the pen, another verse
CIX Say not that ever I was false at heart
LXXXIX Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault
CXXXIX Say that you love another if you can
CXVII Say that on the others I have bent my eye
CXII Scandal's stamped your image on my brow
CIII Scope for self-pride's apparent in this work
CXLII Second thoughts tentacle sticky fingers
LXXXVI Seductive, someone peacock played, his verse
LXXX See how I stall when my poor pen would write
LXXX See how I faint whenever I do paint.
III See in the mirror my reflection there
XLVI See you the struggles 'twixt my heart and mind
CIV Seen through my eyes you never can grow old
VI Self-willed no longer stay, thou art too fair
XLII Send me a smile! - I'll really go to town
CXLVII Sense, sensibility, so sweetly signed
CXX Sensing old unkindness helps me now
XXVIII Separate from you, what sorry plight
LVII Servant of her wishes and desire
CXXXVI Severed from all but vocal echo, I
CXXIX Shakespeare too often failed to understand
II Shall ever Winter snows besiege thy brow
XVIII Shall I compare her to a summer's day
XVIII BIS Shall I compare thee to a game of chess
XVIII TER Shall I compare thee? In what galaxy
XXXVI Shall I confess that we two must be twain
LXXXI Shall I survive if you refuse to make
XCIII Shall I survive if we apart remain
LI Shall then my love forgive my constant calls
X Shame hast thou surely, though beloved by many
XCV Shame turns to bliss, and blame's a-miss if you
LIII She hungry makes where most she satisfies
She sudden danced into my sight, fair sprite
XXXVII Shirking to show my worth I take delight
XLIV Should Chance or base design divide us twain
CVI Should in the chronicles of wasted time
XLI Should Muse to music set thy symphony
CXXXVIII Should she swear she be one with Time and Truth
LXXII Should the cruel world oblige thee to recite
LXVIII Should there be nothing new beneath the sun
CXXIV Should this, my love, be held as wishful thinking
LXXXVIII Should thou my efforts mock, set all to light
CXII Should you perceive that black becometh white
LXXXVI Should you survive my epitaph to make
XXXII Should you survive the number of my days
CLII Show me another who thy praise has penned
CLIV Shrew Tamed, All's Well, though her is Much Ado
CXXVI Sickled Time is sick with jealousy
CLV Simplicity was ne'er my claim to fame
LXII Sin of self-love was mine until we met
XII Since daily do I clock hard knocks of time
CXIII Since first and last we met, I live through thee
CXIII Since I met you my eye is in my mind
LXXXII Since you were never married to my Muse
IX Single remaineth thou lest widow's tears
CL Single state seems seemly, some souls state
LXX Slander's spite to quality's attracted
LXX Sleepless nights and days devoid of rest
LXXVII Sleeps now the metroman who dreams of strikes
LXI Slumbers at thy pressing wish are broken
LII So am I as the wealthy man whose key
CXV So are our revels ended, and the game
LXXV So are you to my soul as food to life
XXIII So as an actor, stage-fright suffering
CVIII So as time serves fine wine so this serves thee
LXXIV So be content, for when the verdict's cast
LXXI So do not mourn for me when I am dead
CXVI So do not to the marriage of true minds
LX So do our minutes hasten to their end
LXXVI So far from innovations, easy change
LVIII So God forbid the day that sees me thine
CXLIV So here's confessed, my heart and head are thine
XXXIX So how, without self-praising, can I sing
XIII So if, sweet love, thy life be like a book
LVI So is it error where I would draw near
XXI So is it not with me as with that Muse
LXXXVII So leave! Farewell! Thou art for my possessing
CV So let not love be called idolatry
XXV So let those who seem lucky in their stars
XCVII So like the winter has thy absence been
XXXVIII So long as Love breathes life into the breast
XXII So long as youth and thou are of one date,
CXXII So many gifts to praise, so little space
XXXIII So many splendid mornings have I seen
CX So much 'tis true, I've gadded here and there
LXXVIII So often I've invoked thee as my Muse
CXXVIII So often when thy smallest thoughts caress
XLV So though from all four elements you're drawn
CXXIII So, Time, If mockery there be, I mock
CXXV So turn the old Khayyam and from his cup
XXXIV So was that tea-time promise made in play
C So where did you slip off to, truant Muse
XVII So who'll believe my verse in times to come
XXXI So why that promise of a Sunday tea
CXLV Soft lips that Love's own hand did make
XX Soft woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
CXXXV Some find, in seeking, pleasure undefined
XCI Some glory in their birth, some in their skill
XCVI Some say thy fault is youth and wantonness
CXXXII Some seek to turn impressions inside out
LXV Some thoughts like playful kittens trip ahead
CXVIII Something sings within me when I think
LV Sometimes I dream you'll leave the door ajar
XXX Sometimes in sessions of unhappy thought
CXLIX Sometimes surprising sweetness sweeps souls shy
CXL Sorrow lends me words which here express
XXVI Sovereign she to whose fidelity
XXVI Bis Sovereign Lord, to whom I'm vassal sworn
XLIX Spare self from sorrow let not my defects
CI Speak truant Muse, how will you make amends
LXXXV Speech is held silver, silence gold is found,
LXXXIV Speech serves no turn, what can give pleasure more
CXXI Spend time elsewhere, share not thy days with me
LXVII Spontaneous these feelers here I send
XCVIII Spring called this year, discovered we'd not met
XC Spurn me and my plea if out of place
CXXVII Stale seems all praise with, dripping from the pen
XXIX Star-cross'd, fortune lost, tossed on Fate's wave
XXVII Stark, strained from work, I will me to my bed
XIV Stars and cards cannot my judgement rule
CXI Start and finish for me are the same
CXXXIV Stay of execution do I seek
XCII Steal not away, coeval is thy life
XCIV Steal not away for ever - out of sight
LXIV Steamroller strange is Time, so prompt to wreak
CXIX Still losing when myself I sought to win
CVII Still will this fancy stay thy monument
XI Stir up the muddy waters of thy mind
CXXXIII Stolen from myself, in jail to lie
XVI Stone turns to sand, and mountains into mould
XXXV Stop, no longer grieve, believe! Who cares
XXVII Bis Strained with toil I coil within my bed
LXXXIII Strange as it sounds I felt you'd never need
XV Strange seems it that each little thing that grows
XLVIII Streams start as springs, soon into rivers stream
XL Strip all my former loves, I'll all reveal
XXIV Strong hand has played the painter here to lend
LXIX Strong is my faith, and each wraith from the Past
CII Strong is my love although no strength is seeming
XLVII Struggles cease as heart and eye ally
LXXXIV Subject or object, - roles so often turned
CXLIII Studied style, like polished mirror glass
XCIV Such as have power to hurt, yet do not so
CXV Such lines I wrote before were outright lie
IV Such loveliness as yours one should not hoard
LXVI Such separation leaves my senses weak
CXLI Suffice it that you know 'tis not my eyes
V Summer's spent while Winter's cold approaches
VII Sun in the East, the gorgeous morning light
LXIII Sunset sends shadows, yet an inner light
CXXX Sun shines far brighter than do Sandrine's eyes
LIX Sundry inventions of technology
CXLVIII Surprise seduction signals siren song
CLI Swain to shepherdess sent gentle posy
LIV Sweet beauty shines as brighter ornament
CLIII Sweet Cupid laid his bow down, fell asleep
CXXXVII Sweet Cupid what have you done to my eyes
I Sweet, from the fairest creatures we desire
LXXIX Sweet love thy face, the fountainhead of grace,
XCIX Sweet thief whence didst thou steal thy sweet
XLIII Sweet, though I blink, I'll never blinkered be,
VIII Sweet with sweet strives not, why joy with joy
LXXXII Swift does the pen in swift succession ink
CXXXI Swift in succession speed sweet thoughts when I
XIX Swift-footed Time speeds on with open jaws
CI Syllables in scintillating stream


PH PART II

LXXI

No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking of me then should make you woe.
O! if, I say, you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay;
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.

Sonnet LXXI

So do not mourn for me when I am dead

So do not mourn for me when I am dead
And all do hear the surly sullen bell,
Nor, when the world will register I've fled,
Do not vouchsafe this sacred love to tell.
Recall not, if reread, the hand that writ, -
If worth here lies, 'tis due to you! I'd not
Now or ever share one whit of it,
Except with you, - keepsake keep safe as Scot!
Vanity is all! - when I'm as clay
Allow my mindless verse behind to burn.
It is not right Love's light should spurn decay,
Leather bound with decorated urn.
Let the wise world then turn another cheek,
And Never To past farce mask, mocking, speak.

LXXII

0! lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me, that you should love
After my death, - dear love forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceasèd I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart:
O! lest your true love may seem false in this
That you for love speak well of me untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.
For I am shamed by that which I bring forth,
And so should you, to love things nothing worth.

Sonnet LXXII

Should the cruel world oblige thee to recite

Should the cruel world oblige thee to recite,
After my death, what breath I drew from thee,
No yarn spin out from truth, no copy - (b) right!
Devise no scheme to share my modesty!
Regret no genius has passed away, -
If worth some find, beware of flattery.
Nine Muses at thy birth bespoke their say
Extolling thee, then took, as vassal, me!
View not this verse, rehearse it not, nor curse,
Albeit, store what pleases 'gainst the time
In splendid isolation of the hearse
Last tears I shall have shed, with Love my crime.
Love is ashamed to name, lest this compares,
Ashamèd Not To share with you fair heirs!

LXXIII

That time of year thou may’st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
Tis you perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Sonnet LXXIII

Sad Autumn, turncoat, sheds its coat of leaves

Sad Autumn, turncoat, sheds its coat of leaves,
Anticipates wild Winter's shivering cold,
No trace of Summer stays, though, threadbare, cleaves
Despondently a handful, rotten, old.
Reflect on them should e'er you think of me,
In whom still stutters twilight which the Gods
Need soon reclaim to set one spirit free.
Earth claims our rest(s) to fertilise the sods.
View while you will the embers of my fire -
Ashes soon, though still endowed with flame,
I trim the wick that strings my modest lyre,
Liar who amassed, then abdicated fame.
Look one last time! - what worth this may contain
Abides Not Through itself, but through your reign!

LXXIV

But be contented: when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away,
My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.
When thou reviewest this, thou dost review
The very part was consecrate to thee:
The earth can have but earth, which is his due;
My spirit is thine, the better part of me:
So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,
The prey of worms, my body being dead;
The coward conquest of a wretch's knife,
Too base of thee to be remembered.
The worth of that is that which it contains,
And that is this, and this with thee remains.

Sonnet LXXIV

So be content, for when Fate's verdict's cast,

So be content, for when Fate's verdict's cast,
And execution ordered without stay,
Notwithstanding all my days be passed
Dim echoes in thy praise perhaps may play,
Recalling this, which from the grave breaks free, -
Instructing all who choose it to believe.
No doubt, if ears could hear or eyes could see,
Eternity Love echoes, though we leave.
Voyage eternal, - such sought Baudelaire,
As Ronsard with Cassandra, Herrick too.
I may play dilettante, mere beau de l'air, -
Life brought me you, - and even snakes can mew!
Lo! all the worth of any pilgrim line
Accept, Nurture, Tend, - do not decline!

LXXV

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As twixt a miser and his wealth is found;
Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then bettered that the world may see my pleasure:
Sometime at full with feasting on your sight,
And by and by clean starvèd for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had, or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

Sonnet LXXV

So are you to my thoughts as food to life

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
And as Spring's showers to the thirsty ground.
Name then the day when we may, Man and Wife,
Drink equal toasts, and boast true Love's been found.
Rise, shed surprise, abandon doubts untrue
If in shared smiles your riles will disappear!
New-born hope's scope, no changes fear, we'll woo
Eternally, all limits lost, no fear!
Voiced is my choice, my dreams by day and night
Are filled with picture images, - please look
Inside my head and wed a future bright, -
Look, you can read me like an open book.
Lets splice together, single heart and soul,
And Never Think to sink to single role.

LXXVI

Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?
O! know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.

Sonnet LXXVI

So far from innovations, easy change

So far from innovations, easy change,
Attest my verse is empty of vain pride.
No new-found scheming, noisy (w) rappings strange
Detract from the plain fact that by your side
Reality and dreams do seem the same.
In an oasis calm, that men call 'home'
Now at the slightest mention of your name
Every wrong is righted, strife unknown.
Vast as the world is, you're my argument,
And through you only do my fond thoughts flow.
Inscribed in life-lines was our meeting meant, -
Love could reap karmic harvest, fresh crops sow.
Like as the sun is daily new and old,
A New Tale folds, cold warms, new cycle's (sc) rol(l) ed.

LXXVII

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste:
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning mayst thou taste.
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthèd graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mast know
Time's thievish progress to eternity.
Look! what thy memory cannot contain,
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
Those children, nursed, deliver'd from thy brain,
To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
These offices, so oft, as thou wilt look,
Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.

Sonnet LXXVII

Sad lines reflected show how beauties wear,

Sad lines reflected show how beauties wear,
And mirror how the precious minutes waste:
No links tomorrow will thy imprints bear,
Downloaded letters digital encased
Reread in hypertext few feelings flow
If gaping grave Life's font melts, has devoured.
Numbered pixels underline Time's blow,
Entrancing beauty, cipher stamped and houred,
Victim of its own prowess, we find.
An answer lies in offspring for no press
Impresses where firm flesh can touch unwind
Let fresh mind fill old blanks, bold, make new guess!
Let ugly duckling's imperfections age
Allowing Niobe To fill fresh page!

LXXVIII

So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
Have added feathers to the learnèd's wing
And given grace a double majesty.
Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
Whose influence is thine, and born of thee:
In others' works thou dost but mend the style,
And arts with thy sweet graces gracèd be:
But thou art all my art, and dost advance
As high as learning my rude ignorance.

Sonnet LXXVIII

So often I've invoked thee as my Muse

So often I've invoked thee as my Muse,
And fresh ground found there for inventions fair,
Nor could I seek to profit from false ruse,
Despising love, to trick, or trap prepare.
Rude, dumb was I who, sudden, seek to sing,
Ignorant who through life's clouds do soar, -
New feathers preened my sheen is glittering,
Enhanced by thy reflection adding more.
Vibrations string my verse which, but for you,
As empty style, or soldier on parade,
In serried ranks and stiff would ring untrue -
Leftover, graceless husk, all magic greyed!
Light, inspiration, artless, yet fine art
Are Not They winning trumps, help insight start?

Sonnet LXXIX

Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace:
But now my gracious numbers are decayed
And my sick Muse doth give another place.
I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen;
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent
He robs thee of, and pays it thee again.
He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word
From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give,
And found it in thy cheek: he can afford
No praise to thee but what in thee doth live.
Then thank him not for that which he doth say,
Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.

Sonnet LXXIX

Sweet love thy face, the fountainhead of grace

Sweet love thy face, the fountainhead of grace,
Afforded inspiration for my muse,
Now, down on luck, I fail, - you both refuse.
Dumbstruck I faint, still others fill my place.
Respecting what from you my mind would borrow,
It is exchange not highway robbery,
Needless to say we weigh words, - those we free
Extract a fee which triples each tomorrow.
Visible in both cheek, in demeanour,
As far from madding crowd as from the moon,
It seems your talents play a priceless tune,
Leave others standing, hissed from the arena
Letters are formed by she who stimulates,
And Nought The author owe - who thy truth states

LXXX

0! how I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
And in the praise thereof spends all his might,
To make me tongue tied speaking of your fame!
But since your worth - wide as the ocean is, -
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
My saucy bark, inferior far to his,
On your broad main doth wilfully appear.
Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,
Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride;
Or, being wracked, I am a worthless boat,
He, of tall building and of goodly pride:
Then if he thrive, and I be cast away,
The worst was this - my love was my decay.

Sonnet LXXX

See how I stall when my poor pen would write

See how I stall when my poor pen would write, -
Aware a better lip exalts thy name
Naming talents no one else could claim, -
Doubting, tongue-tied where I'd praise delight.
Reflecting, though, your worth is infinite
It seems that time and space for all the same
Needs cater, offer hot and cold, shame, fame,
Even my modest tribute may shine bright.
Voiced hint from thee, frees from restrictions trite
Although another makes my all seem tame,
I falter, hesitate to speak, seem lame, -
Lame where another's bark has deeper bite.
Lady, though he thrive, and I'm outcast,
At No Time I'll regret Love's die was cast.

LXXXI

Or shall I live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombèd in men's eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read;
And tongs to be your being shall rehearse,
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live, - such virtue hath my pen, -
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.

Sonnet LXXXI

Shall I survive if you refuse to make

Shall I survive if you refuse to make
An answer to my plea, in earth lie rotten?
New roses bloom, new names old claims forsake,
Deserting old maid's mirror! Unforgotten
Ride here upon this sonnet's steed to wake
In ecstasy immortal other throats!
No fair could dare compare, your beauty fake,
Excelling not, deforming Nature's notes.
Vision eternal you remain, to take
All those who follow on the tracks of time
Into the realm of speculation, stake
Life's worth on insight garnered from this rhyme.
Let all who read forget loves present, past,
As No Thoughts uninspired by you can last!

LXXXII

I grant thou wert not married to my Muse,
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book.
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise;
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp to the time-bettering days.
And do so, love; yet when they have devised
What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend,
Thou truly fair wert truly sympathised
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend;
And their gross painting might be better us'd
When cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.

Sonnet LXXXII

Since you were never married to my Muse

Since you were never married to my Muse
And thus poetic licence can dispense,
No dedication seems unjust, - incense
Derived without expedients writers use
Reflecting that your worth none can refuse,
I find personified sweet excellence,
Nature's triumph at all art's expense -
Exception as ambition all would choose!
Vain strained rhetoric seems when talents fuse
As one within one iridescence,
Inspiration whose bright incandescence
Leaves breathless all, who fear what they may lose.
Lush blush does bloom to gild a lily fair,
And No Tint human ever seemed so rare!

LXXXIII

I never saw that you did painting need,
And therefore to your fair no painting set,
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt:
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself, being extent, well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
When others would give life, and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Then both your poets can in praise devise.

Sonnet LXXXIII

Strange as it sounds, I felt you'd never need

Strange as it sounds, I felt you'd never need
A portrait drawn, since, fair beyond compare,
Naught could depict what does all else exceed,
Despite the debt due to poetic flair.
Rose rose remains which rose behind a mask, -
I found, or thought I'd found - a priceless gem,
Now pen would (l) ink some questions, take to task, -
Each rose grows thorns upon a spiky stem!
Value on truth I put! Trod underfoot
Are all assumptions of perfection's sphere,
If magic weaves its spell without, it's put
Levels within which just to sage appear.
Lives there more life in one of your fair eyes
As Nirvana's Tale could improvise.

LXXXIV

Who is it that says most? which can say more
Than this rich praise, - that you alone are you!
In whose confine immurèd is the store
Which should example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory;
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, so dignifies his story,
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admirèd everywhere.
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.

Sonnet LXXXIV

Speech serves no turn, what can give pleasure more

Speech serves no turn, what can give pleasure more
Approaching treasure as your measure true
None on Earth claim more worth than in your store
Decidedly seems surface 'superflu'.
Risible the author who would dwell
In depth upon a subject, shed no light, -
None but he who on your timeless spell
Echoes approximations, lily bright
Vainly would gild to dim its inner light.
Alas there's not one wit who e'er could knit
Ideas together, make a copy right,
Loyal to Nature's imprint clearly writ
Love, an eternal mirage-mirror, makes
All NaTure envy you, all else are fakes.

LXXXV

My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments on your praise, richly compiled
Reserve their character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
I think good thoughts, while others write good words,
And, like unlettered clerk, still cry 'Amen'
To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polished form of well refinèd pen.
Hearing you praised, I say, 'Tis so, 'tis true, '
And to the most of praise add something more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
Then others for the breath of words respect,
Me for my dumb-thoughts, speaking in effect.

Sonnet LXXXV

Speech is held silver, silence gold is found

Speech is held silver, silence gold is found,
And it were better had I held my tongue,
No tales would then be told of aims unsound,
Dumb would this sonnet be, its woes unsung.
Recapitulation serves no turn,
I rant and rave enough elsewhere, 'tis true,
Nuisances some scold, and others spurn, -
Enough, no more! there are those sweet as you.
Vice steals from virtue various disguises
Attempting to score points no other sees,
If I'd not known you ARE, what wild surmises
Life might have conjured up to deck dream frieze!
Let from this framework form an image deep
Allow Now This, which makes all envy weep.

LXXXVI

Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all too gracious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonishèd.
He, not that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my silence cannot boast,
I was not sick of any fear from thence:
But when your countenance filled up his line,
Then lacked I matter; - that enfeebled mine.

Sonnet LXXXVI

Seductive, someone peacock played, his verse

Seductive, someone peacock played, his verse
Attempted to abscond with you as prize,
Needled to jealous pitch my toss too terse,
Deflected hopes, which were cut down to size.
Ripe rotten turned as if his magic lines
Implied and underscored my weaknesses, -
Nuisance value doomed to slight success.
Each night an evil sprite his verse defines
Vacant paper fills between the sheets -
And I, who cry in silence, cannot boast
Intelligence can top the wedding toast!
Little fear I had but he defeats
Last hopes when you his start and finish prove
ANThem immortal which love would remove.

LXXXVII

Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know’st thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gav’st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav’st it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgement making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but, waking, no such matter.

Sonnet LXXXVII

So leave! Farewell! Thou art for my possessing

So leave! Farewell! Thou art for my possessing
Alas too dear, and know'st thy estimate!
Nor can a spirit so unprepossessing
Deserve to be admitted as thy mate.
Rich is thy soul, too rich for my deserving,
Intrinsic worth in me be of thy granting,
Now all my licence patently is swerving,
Exiled returns to she who finds me wanting.
Vows were not spoken, yet are hopes mistaken,
And I who sought thought too well of my worth,
I plumb new depths, thy height who can have taken?
Let dust to dust return until rebirth!
Lady, I dreamed, - and dreams oft tend to flatter, -
A Notion Timid! Which one? - Does it matter?

LXXXVIII

When thou shall be disposed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, thou thou art forsworn.
With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults concealed, wherein I am attainted;
That thou in losing me shall win much glory.
And I by this shall be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.
Such is my love, to thee I do belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.

Sonnet LXXXVIII

Should you my efforts mock, set all to light

Should you my efforts mock, set all to light,
And blanket merit in a bed of scorn,
New criticise, against myself I'd fight,
Duty owing you, leave both forsworn.
Regarding faults, with mine I'm well acquainted,
In losing me, the more chance for your glory: -
No details now of how I am attainted
Expect to hear herein - 'tis quite a story!
Victory is yours whate'er your choice,
As leaving me you should leave ill behind.
It brings me joy, does this, but should love's voice
Lift up my hopes, leave scope for bettered mind,
Life then in love with love would thus belong
(And Never Turn) - to thee for whom I long!

LXXXIX

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment upon that offence;
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,
Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desirèd change,
As I'll myself disgrace; knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange;
Be absent from my walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet belovèd name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.
For thee, against myself, I'll vow debate,
For must I ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.

Sonnet LXXXIX

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I shall not deny that dire offence:
Name but thy arguments, at once I'll halt,
Dispensing with excuses or defence.
Rest charges - press not hard, - naught does disgrace
In life as much as where one's checked due change,
Nor aught despised as much as who'd his face
Expects to show when banished out of range.
Vile I should feel, and all acquaintance past
At last if e'er profaned thy name has been,
If eye offended has, be it outcast,
Limb sinned? - let it be struck, no longer seen.
Lo, where thy smile no more may penetrate
All Noble Thoughts to dust disintegrate.

XC

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not dropp in for an after-loss:
Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty spites have done their spite,
But in the onset come; so I shall taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might:
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.

Sonnet XC

Spurn me please, all my pleas if out of place

Spurn me please, all my pleas if out of place
A word is writ which might thy wor(l) d upset,
Necessity's a law which heeds no threat, -
Despise not praise that ph(r) ases beauty's face.
Repudiate me now, leave with no trace,
If I offend or lend to fair coquette
Now in my verse, - perverse, or false facet -
Entitled art thou! Naught would I efface.
Vanity to others can't erase
A truth that's universal. Thou dost whet
Indelicate an appetite and set
Lines on lines to paper paper-chase!
Leave me to linger, if thou wilt, depths plumb,
Add Now The words: - 'Of Love where is the sum? '

XCI

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their worth, some in their bod'ly force,
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill;
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
And every humour has its adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:
But these particulars are not my measure
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be;
And having thee of all men's pride I boast:
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take
All this away, and me most wretched make.

Sonnet XCI

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
And some in wealth, some in their body's force,
Nor yet can some ignore rich raiments, still
Do others turn to sporting, hounds or horse.
Right every humour hath his added pleasure,
In which it finds true joys above the rest:
No wonder such concerns I spurn as treasure -
Esteeming better what I measure best!
Verily thy love is ALL to me,
And richer far than wealth, - uncounted worth!
I boast a host of happiness through thee, -
Love's bark in thy safe haven finds its berth.
Love's luck I've found, but fear lest thou should take
Away Now This, - and me most wretched make!

XCII

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assurèd mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O! what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
But what's so blessèd-fair that fears no blot?
Thou may'st be false, and yet I know it not.

Sonnet XCI

Steal not away, coeval is thy life

Steal not away, coeval is thy life
And mine, entwined for ever, - should you leave
No longer could I face this vale of strife,
Despondent I would drown should love deceive.
Rest by my side, - our lives would never end,
In harmony we would compose love's songs,
Nature Nature has surpassed, I'd bend
Ever my knee to Fate's unweighted thongs.
Vexation cannot cross a constant mind;
Aware that on thy life it does depend,
In this a happy title do I find,
Light shall triumph, Death's veil ne'er descend.
Link our unfettered letters, free from blot,
And Ne'er Think Love false, fickle, fancied, sot!

XCIII

So shall I live, supposing thou art true,
Like a deceivèd husband; so love's face
May still seem love to me, though altered new;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place:
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know the change.
In many's looks the false heart's history
Is writ in moods, and frowns, and wrinkles strange,
But heaven in thy creation did decree
That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell;
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be,
Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell.
How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow,
If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!

Sonnet XCIII

Shall I survive if we apart remain

Shall I survive if we apart remain
Alive, deprived of light, - might bright sun shine?
No! Split from thy sweet reign rain shows brine,
Divided from thy smile, life's inhumane.
Reason sees through those counterfeits who feign,
In search of trinkets, soft affection's mime, -
Nonetheless, when writing bottom line,
Expressed is pain which spurns the counterpane.
Values: - none but thee on Earth retain,
As in thy stars the Graces did combine,
Inventing more to grant thy planet's sign -
Love, health and wealth, uniting beauty, brain.
Let not this combination war within,
Admit New T(h) rust, - thou must - let life begin!

XCIV

They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation slow;
They rightly do inherit heaven's graces,
And husband nature's riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die,
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity:
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

Sonnet XCIV

Such as have power to hurt, yet do not so

Such as have power to hurt, yet do not so
And, moving other, stay, themselves, as stone,
Needled never, poker faced, no groan
Do cede to temper tantrum, oath or blow
Rewards do find, thought to temptation slow,
Inherit nature's bounty, need no loan
Nectar sip, don't turn to skin and bone,
E'er Lords and masters stay, may come or go.
Vale's summer flow'r grows sweet neath summer's glow,
Although unseen it blooms and fades alone,
If it be struck by blight or tempest blown,
Lower it lies than dank weed's thankless show.
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds,
ANd Things turn sour which flower with ill deeds.

XCV

For sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose,
Doth spot the beauty of the budding name!
O! in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose.
That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
Making lascivious comments on thy sport,
Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise;
Naming thy name blesses an ill report.
O! what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's veil does cover every blot
And all things turn to fair that eyes can see?
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;
The hardest knife, ill-used, doth lose its edge.

Sonnet XCV

Shame turns to bliss, and blame's a-miss when you

Shame turns to bliss, and blame's a-miss when you
A miss, become a mistress of my heart.
No spots will blot or blight, new light will chart
Day after day joys which to joys accrue.
Rapport, true empathy, osmosis new,
In unity upset old apple cart.
New day may dawn ere corn is ripe, - fresh start
Ending Love's apprenticeship. Skies blue
Vista's wide encourage. Courage true
Art thou who artless plays a double part,
In forcing wait, - enforcing, wait apart: -
Let this Apartheid hide what both fates knew.
Let not this weight become an ashen grate, -
Abuse Not This lest both disintegrate.

XCVI

Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport;
Both grace and faults are loved of more and less:
Thou mak'st faults graces that to the resort.
As on the finger of a thronèd queen
The basest jewel will be well esteemed,
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated and for true things deemed.
How many lambs might the stern wolf betray,
If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
How many gazers mightst thou lead away
If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
But do not so; I love thee in such sort,
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

Sonnet XCVI

Some say thy fault is youth and wantonness

Some say thy fault is youth and wantonness
And some thy grace is youth and gentle sport: -
Now both grace, faults, are loved by more or less
Deny none can, grace in your faults is caught!
Reflect: upon the finger of a queen
If not the smallest stone attracts all praise, -
Next think all errors that in you are seen
Exchanged for truths are, or truth's interplays.
Very many lambs would wolf betray
Appearing as a lamb, with woolly fleece
If there is one then thousands are astray
Led if you play a game, and feelings fleece!
Let not temptation overplay its hand
As Now That you are mine, your charms expand.

XCVII

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December’s bareness every where!
And yet this time removed was summer’s time;
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
Like widowed wombs after their lords’ decease:
Yet this abundant issue seemed to me
But hope or orphans and unfathered fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.

Sonnet XCVII

So like the winter has your absence been

So like the winter has your absence been,
And every day that passes by forsakes
Narcissic hopes: - head aches, while hoary flakes
Drudge from dark depths stark ancient echoes mean.
Read how the world I'd win were you my Queen!
Imagine how we'd overcome mistakes,
Nestled close together till each wakes
Entwined in silk-soft curves, from dreams serene.
Velvet is that touch too much you'd screen
Apart from one true heart that counterfeits
Insouciance yet still askance awaits
Love's signal from that ciphered smile, - Sandrine!
Let go old hesitations, seek new peaks,
Admiration Never Too much speaks.

XCVIII

From you I have been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in heu,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

Sonnet XCVIII

Spring called this year, discovered we'd not met

Spring called this year, discovered we'd not met,
Although thy absence keenly I did feel.
November now, - I never shall forget
Doubled desire for fire I can't conceal.
Restrictions heavy lie, in solitude
I dwell on lilies white and roses red,
Nor birds, nor bees, can melt an icy mood, -
Excepting you no thoughts fly through my head.
Vernal green and summer gold, if told,
Are echoes pale of your chromatic scale,
Impressions fleeting, tawdry goods unsold, -
Left on life's shelf where your wealth tints life's tale.
Life winter doubly turns with you away,
As NoThing earns but shadows, dark dismay.

XCIX

The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
The lily I condemnèd for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair,
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,
And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.

Sonnet XCIX

'Sweet thief whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells? '

'Sweet thief whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells? '
A violet asked her with a gentle chide,
'No theft occurred! ' at once my Queen replied:
'Divine the gift! - in genius my cells! '
Reactions followed fast! The thorny rose,
In jealous corn did prick: - 'Whence did thy glow,
Ne'er seen before, so sudden spring? ' 'Who knows? '
Envious Lily sneered. Said Marjoram, 'Vain show! '
Vain was the spite that whitened roots in all,
As one with shame blushed, three paled in despair.
In late atonement violet, bunching small,
Let on thy perfume was beyond compare!
Lily, rose and violet did I see,
And None There grew but drew fair hue from you.

C

Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey,
If Time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make Time's spoils despisèd every where.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crookèd knife.

Sonnet C
So where did you slip off to, truant Muse,

So where did you slip off to, truant Muse,
Allowing time to pass without inventing
New songs to praise, new phrases to amuse
Divinity? Whence comes this dumb relenting?
Return, forgetful Muse, forthwith repent
In gentle numbers time so idly spent.
Nightingale, thy notes in my esteem
E'er shall seduce till Time all Time has spent.
Verily unmatched, rise, Love survey,
And prove no wrinkle Time can lay on her
In spite that by night Time oft likes to prey -
Let ridicule his shame forever stir!
Love fans her fame that flames far faster than
A Neutered Time decay could ever plan.

CI

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say,
Truth needs no colour, with his colour fixed;
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;
But best is best, if never intermixed ?
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?
Excuse not silence so, for 't lies in thee
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb
And to be prais'd of ages yet to be.
Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how
To make him seem long hence as he shows now.

Sonnet CI

Speak truant Muse, how will you make amends

Speak truant Muse, how will you make amends
After neglecting truth in beauty dyed?
Need I repeat their aims do coincide?
Does not my love on both of them depend?
Respond, fond Muse: will you not truly say
In truth Truth needs no colour, colour fixed,
Nor should false praise be ever intermixed
Each pencil, stencil, brush, is truth denied?
Viewed that time often is a bitter ill
Allow not silence! speak! and make more room
If Love would last beyond the gilded tomb!
Lift up their thoughts, praise through the ages still
Let your imagination roam, fair Muse,
ANd Those who follow on you'll e'er enthuse.

CII

My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear:
That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming
The owner's tongue doth publish every where.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue,
Because I would not dull you with my song.

Sonnet CII

Strong is my love although no strength is seeming,

Strong is my love although no strength is seeming,
As love's not less though less its shine appears,
Nor is love rich which value mines, esteeming
Due credit lies when broadcast far and near.
Revels were fresh unravelled in the Spring
In times of joy, of rose and nightingale,
Next, Autumn chill, crops tilled, bees lose their sting,
Ease turns to anguish as time's lease doth stale.
Vanquished the peerless beauty of the rose,
And nightingale is mute or hardly heard,
In my love only lasting lantern glows,
Lute is love's word, flute finer than a bird!
Lost roses all are, nightingales fall dumb,
As Now They sense love's greater than their sum.

CIII

Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument, all bare, is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!
O! blame me not, if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;
And more, much more, than in my verse can sit,
Your own glass shows you when you look in it.

Sonnet CIII

Scope for self-pride's apparent in this work

Scope for self-pride's apparent in this work
Adapting truth to trace a transient whim.
Nonetheless it jars now, starts to irk,
Despite the polished stanzas neat and trim.
Rosy cheeks and figures fair attract
In days of joy till usage cloys love's verse, -
No need exists to butter bread where tact
Expects discretion, vanity would curse.
Vanished seems that vision dreams impelled,
And in its stead a new kaleidoscope
Is turned - all changes, Truth is diff'rent spelled,
Leaving room for some fresh tumbled hope!
Let joys not ploys and whims forthwith unite,
Asserting Nature's Triumph, future bright.

CIV

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summer’s pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no peace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.

Sonnet CIV

Seen through my eyes you never can grow old

Seen through my eyes you never can grow old,
As you are now, so shall you ever be.
Now fair among the fair, - their beauty, cold,
Defers to yours in depth and quality.
Rise and fall of seasons have I seen,
It still holds true, though through you Time's defeated,
Nor shall decay add grey to sable sheen,
Ever round you the Muses nine are seated.
Vain would the hand of time advance an hour,
As second thoughts uncounted spin awry, -
Its motions spelled by magic, still, you flower,
Life revels in you till the sands run dry.
Lend me a tithe of all that love, we'll bloom,
ANd To no other turn, thrive bride and groom.

CV

Let not my love be called idolatry,
Nor my belovèd as an idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
Therefore my verse, to constancy confined,
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
'Fair, kind, and true' is all my argument,
'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words;
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
'Fair, kind, and true' have often lived alone,
which three till now never kept seat in one.

Sonnet CV

Spurn ideal love not as idolatry,
Assert not my belovèd idol show,
Now constant all my songs, strong praises free,
Describe my Doll, - no verse knows idle flow!
Rose is my love, without the thorns, - sweet, kind,
Inherently confirming excellence.
No less my verse, to constancy confined,
Expresses truth, admits no difference.
'Valid, fair and kind's' my argument,
And beauty, truth, there draw their synonyms,
If this should change, imagination spent,
Look between the lines for further hymns.
Love, Truth, and Kindness bind a mind replete,
And Not To others look, nor brook defeat.

CVI

When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rime,
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And, for they looked but divining eyes,
They had not skill enough you worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

Sonnet CVI

Should in the chronicles of wasted time

Should in the chronicles of wasted time
A line be writ to underline this jest,
No explanations for this pantomime
Deserve a space within your treasure chest.
Rapid rises favour faster falls
If fancies are not backed by solid fact.
Now, looking back, the parody appals, -
Ego boosting exercise that lacked
Valid motives from the start, which now
Abjectly seek to justify its cause
In causing pain unto a stainless brow -
Light-hearted wit which others' flaws ignores.
Light painted shipwreck on a(t) tainted ocean,
A Nuisance Tries to style itself emotion.

CVII

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.
The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage;
Incertainties now crown themselves assured,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,
Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rime,
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:
And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.

Sonnet CVII

Still will this fancy stay thy monument

Still will this fancy build thy monument
Although the seasons leapfrog through decades
Nor does it matter if its argument
Derives much stimulation from thy peers.
Relentlessly I mutilate my thought
Intending to induce distaste in thee,
Nor does it matter much if I am caught
Enmeshed within a self-made net for free!
Vast though this scheme, the dream begins to wilt,
And although perjured soul-song I deny,
I still retain a deep quixotic tilt
Looking for fresh ways to unify
Love's present dea(r) th with hopes for future fair,
ANd Thus defeat my self defeat, - Time's snare.

CVIII

What's in the brain, that inks may character,
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must each day say o'er the very same;
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page;
Finding the first conceit of love there bred,
Where time and outward form would show it dead.

Sonnet CVIII

So as time serves fine wine so this serves thee

So as time serves fine wine so this serves thee,
As, ageing, both flow fresher than before.
New aspects of your worth will freshmen see,
Decorticating my acrostic core.
Revealed in Antwerp or in Amsterdam,
In diamond cutters' workshops, new facets
Need time revealing beauty gram by gram,
Endless patience to unveil assets.
Victim of my haste, though, here I fail
A fraction of thy charm to render - you
In future will through CPU so frail
Live, slip between the lines, encoded cue.
Liver, lights and lungs combine to praise
Avowing Noble Thoughts you've set ablaze!

CIX

O, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from myself depart
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:
That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in ma nature reigned
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.

Sonnet CIX

Say not that ever I was false at heart

Say not that ever I was false at heart,
Although forced absence seemed to qualify
New love's protestations. You're a part
Decisive of my life, as is each eye
Revealed to be, - you have been from the start!
Interconnections within the brain defy
Normal comprehension. Neurones dart
Encoding and decoding symbols by
Vaulting synapses, seek solutions' heart.
A binding stripped of pages now am I,
In somic coma, - for, when we're apart,
Life's motions stumble, dazed, time passes by.
Lapsed time no meaning holds when you're away,
And Neither, Too, beside you - night is day!

CX

Alas! 'tis true I have gone here and there,
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored my own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear.
Made old offences of affections new;
Most true it is that I have looked on truth
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays prov'd thee my best of love.
Now all is done, save what shall have no end:
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A god in love, to whom I am confined.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure and most loving breast.



Sonnet CX

So much, 'tis true, I've gadded here and there

So much, 'tis true, I've gadded here and there,
And played the fool, abused that play as tool,
Nor scrupled yet to trade though cupboard bare
Dog ne'er did see, while stretching every rule.
Respecting truth, I've led a merry dance
In some respects for years, - yet now would claim
New age has dawned, - at shed skin glance askance,
Entrapped within a net knit with your name.
Vain he who, finding love, seeks pastures new, -
Amor has nestled in my heart for good.
I would not change, deflect to other view,
Love's feast has come to roost, and I'll not brood.
Lasting shall this trance turn out to be,
Aphrodite's Now Triumphant, free.

CXI

0! for my sake do you with Fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide
Than public means, which public manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand:
Pity me, then, and wish I were renewed;
Whilst like a willing patient, I will drink
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection;
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance, to correct correction.
Pity me, then, dear friend, and I assure ye
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.

Sonnet CXI

Start and finish are for me the same

Start and finish are for me the same
As henceforth I'll be ruled by one sole star,
Nourishment divine shines from one flame,
Does light my love if I be near or far.
Regeneration casts its magic spell
Instantly resuscitating hope,
Night-light on whom my dreams do daily dwell,
Expectant turn to you, then, awkward, grope
Venturesome to find a way to give
A tithe of what you've granted back to you.
In full awareness that I cannot live
Long sans some sign, some line that nought's askew,
Let, if unwelcome, these words be returned,
And Never Try to seek where I'll be urned.

CXII

Thy love and pity doth the impression fill
Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my all-the-world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steeled sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stoppèd are
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides methinks are dead.

Sonnet CXII

Scandal's stamped your image on my brow

Scandal's stamped your image on my brow
As for no other care I well or ill,
Nectar tastes tart where my claims you allow,
Dear, you alone do all my dreams fulfil.
Replete you are, my ALL, and I must strive
In everything obedient to your tongue.
None else to me, and I to none alive,
Except your star that rules my right and wrong.
Vanquished all fear of slander, my desires
Are lit by you, who cares a critic's toss
If others, jealous, jingle at my fires?
Large is my gain, and larger still their loss!
Love, you're so much the sum of every part
As None That live can count or touch my heart.



CXIII

Since I left you my eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out ;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet favour, or deformed'st creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature -
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.

Sonnet CXIII

Since I left you my eye is in my mind

Since I left you my eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about
Now does its function, now is partly blind,
Does seem to see, effectually is out,
Refusing to deliver to the heart
Images of bird, bloom, shape - none match!
No objects can attention hold apart,
Except my mind a glimpse of you can catch.
Vale or hill, the rudest, gentlest sight,
A fair reflection or the foulest creature,
Inner sea or outer space, day, night,
Last and first, - all integrate your feature.
Lost for words to praise, I lose my way
And NoThing stays as hopes hope's hopes betray.

CXIV

Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I say, mine eyes saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchemy,
To make of monsters and things indigest
Such cherubins as you sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best,
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
O! 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup:
If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.


Sonnet CXIV

Such angelic qualities as yours

Such angelic qualities as yours
Are rare when taken one by one, the whole
No other could combine because their cause
Does root within the confines of your soul.
Rays which the spectrum span, then go beyond,
Iridesce, deflecting flattery,
No other can induce love's strongest bond -
Entirely yours remains that alchemy.
Vein to the heart returns, refreshing start,
And artery the cycle recommences,
In and of all you are, life's blood, - each part
Lifeline true, whose influence immense is.
Love is an infant, needs your smile to grow,
And None There are who can deny 'tis true.

CXV

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my judgement knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;
Alas! why, fearing of Time's tyranny,
Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best, '
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?
Love is a babe; then might I not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow?

Sonnet CXV

Such lines I wrote before were outright lie,

Such lines I wrote before were outright lie,
Asserting I could never love you dearer:
Not knowing there'd be any reason why
Desire's full flame could afterwards burn clearer.
Reflecting now that all Time's accidents
Influence and change decrees of kings,
Nuance beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Even divert strong minds to altering things.
Vigilant before Time's tyranny
A voice within me said 'I love you best'!
I'm now convinced that was a felony -
Love crowned today does steal from all the rest.
Love's like a baby, this I underline,
At Now Time growth can cease, new heights not climb.


CXVI

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to any wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


Sonnet CXVI

So do not to the marriage of true minds

So do not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
New altered where it alteration finds,
Doubted when held prudent to remove!
Rest certain, 'tis an ever-fixèd mark,
Is never shaken whate'er tempest blows,
North Star it is to every wandering bark,
Extent of which all guess, but no-one knows.
Verily, though rosy lips and cheeks
Are subject to grim Death, Love's not Time's fool.
It steady stands, though years spent leave but weeks,
Love (f) alters not despite doom's drum so cruel.
Let, if this error, and upon me proved,
A Notice Tell that no man ever loved.

CXVI


Law of this World

Let thee not to the marriage of two minds
Admit expedience. Love is not love
Which falters where it altercation finds
Or (b) ends when some remove would remove.
Fie no! It is an (f) ever fixèd (m) ark
That looks on cats and never is awaken.
Here, ‘tis the dog-star to every wandering bark,
Its birth unknown although its bough be shaken.
Since Love Time’s fool is not, though rosy cheeks
Within his wending t(r) ickle’s compass come,
Or (f) alters not though days draw into weeks,
Remains it steady to the edge of doom!
Let thus if error this, and on me proved,
Dumb be my w(r) it, for no man ever loved.

30 October 1991


CXVII

Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon your dearest love to call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;
That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear-purchased right,
That I have hoisted sail to all the winds
Which should transport me farthest from your sight.
Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
And on just proof surmise accumulate;
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your wakened hate;
Since my appeal says I did strive to prove
The constancy and virtue of your love.


Sonnet CXVII

Say that on others I have bent my eye

Say that on others I have bent my eye,
Attention paid where slight was truly due,
Note this as error, proving by and by,
Divinity, sweet friend, takes root in you.
Reproach me that too much time is misspent
In search of idle dreams, note too each fault,
No need I find to blame myself, repent,
Each chiding's taken with a pinch of salt.
Vain is each thought I elsewhere would direct,
As vain as blossom that in desert blooms,
I pray to see the day that you'll elect
Love's ticket, which itself and both assumes.
Languishing, awaiting your reply,
A New Theme I'll not sing till oceans dry.


CXVIII

Like as, to make our appetites more keen,
With eager compounds we our palate urge;
As, to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge;
Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness,
To bitter sauces did I frame my feeling;
And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness
To be diseased, ere that there was true needing.
Thus policy in love, to anticipate
The ills that were not, grew to faults assured,
And brought to medicine a healthful state,
Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured;
But thence I learn, and find the lesson true,
Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.

Sonnet CXVIII

Something sings

Something sings within me when I think
Adoringly on you, from toe to tête.
No demoiselle, compared, could nod or wink
Deserve, no gem was e'er more fair inset.
Responding to your smile, which by my side
Is omnipresent, I write day and night. -
Now dream could gleam more vividly! Time's tide
Ends senseless foaming, bubble bursting might.
Vision fades, and instantly light's shrouded,
As if a fog had blanketed all hope,
I lonely feel, although the room's real crowded, -
Lovelorn one's born to minimise life's scope.
Luckless is the man who can but guess
At Nature's Triumph, lacking you to bless.


CXIX


What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessèd never!
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever!
O benefit of ill! now I find true
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruined love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebuked to my content,
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.


Sonnet CXIX

Still losing when myself I sought to win


Still losing when myself I sought to win,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Nor heeding prudence, lost in tables' spin,
Do I dream wealth of heart through siren tears?
Ruined love, when rebuilt once again,
Increases to envelope all the world, -
Now please forgive my errors and thy pain,
Envisage Love's soft nest with twinned doves curled.
Vain were my life, - (I've written this before) -
Apart from thy soft smiles, they eyes, thy voice:
Impossible 'twould be for Muse to soar,
Lacking her who is its only choice.
Lacking thee, my sun speeds its decline, -
A Night Too dark to think, - and so I pine.

Sonnets for Sandrine
Sonnet CXIX BIS?

Sweet music, sweeter fingers softly playing,
Accompanies the senses as they dream,
Newts, toads and adders too are softly swaying
Danger past, in peace which none blaspheme.
Refusing envy of those knaves that seek
In cheek to print a kiss upon thy hand,
Now I who’d harvest one fond glance fall weak,
Ecstatic, silent, by thee blushing stand.
Vertiginous I watch thy instrument
Adorèd fingers, luscious lips, embrace, -
If only I were wood, my hollows sent
Love’s music - where would be rhyme, time and space?
Let arrant knaves thy echoes seek to snare,
And think with me thy harmony to share!

CXX

That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or burnished steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
As I by yours, you've passed a hell of time;
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.
O! that our night of woe might have remembered
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me, then tendered
The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits:
But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

Sonnet CXX

Sensing old unkindness helps me now

Sensing old unkindness helps me now,
Assessing that deep sorrow that I felt
Needs must assist in understanding how
Deep was thy grief, although so seldom spelt.
Recalling old misunderstandings here
I see how thoughtless I was to insist,
Not understanding reasons for that tear
Edging eyes with red rims ruby kissed.
Venture, then, to share your grief with me,
As I, assuming it, find doubled joy,
In should'ring it, and in relieving thee,
Love opens double channels to enjoy.
Let me your troubles take, break up, disperse,
ANd, Through thy loss, recomfort thy heart’s purse.



CXXI

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,
When not to be receives reproach of being;
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing:
For why should others' false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up their own :
I may be straight though they themselves be bevel:
By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown;
Unless this general evil they maintain,
All men are bad and in their badness reign.

Sonnet CXXI
Spend time elsewhere, share not your days with me,

Spend time elsewhere, share not your days with me,
And I, forgotten, left to rot behind,
Note down the shades of grey anxiety
Dividing day from night, and sight from blind.
Read in my heart, as in these lines tear-seeded,
Intense distress which drowns all other thought,
No extra-sensory perception’s needed, -
Emotions boil, all’s turmoil, time is short.
Vile seems the world whenever sorrow strikes,
Abused is love, where others would discover
Invalid reasons for likes and dislikes,
Lift veils best private left ‘twixt loved and lover.
Love’s sealed cards only false, true fate reveal,
ANon The answer’s drawn none can repeal.


CXXII

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full charactered with lasting memory,
Which shall above that idle rank remain,
Beyond all date, even to eternity:
Or, at the least, so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist;
Till each to razed oblivion yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be missed.
That poor retention could not so much hold,
Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To trust those tables that receive thee more:
To keep an adjunct to remember thee
Were to import forgetfulness in me.


Sonnet CXXII

So many gifts to praise, so little space
Admitted in a sonnet’s fourteen lines.
No syllables string purer pearls to grace
Dearer neck which swan, admiring, signs.
Recording more by hints than overstatement
I find a phrase to praise, a way to free
No common rays which hasten to abatement, -
Eternal mistress, timeless mystery!
Vision’d damsel on her dulcimer
Another tune may play for other ears,
I need no opiate to dream on her -
Let this as witness stand throughout the years.
Let fourteen lines find tripled breadth and length,
And No True themes would lack to praise her strength.


Sonnet CXXIII

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old;
And rather make them born to our desire
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wondering at the present nor the past,
For thy records and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by the continual haste.
This I do vow, and this shall ever be;
I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee.


Sonnet CXXIII

Silence, Time! None boast that I do change

Silence, Time! None boast that I do change
Admitting some strange altar to my sight,
New pyramids sand atoms rearrange -
Dust dances as an ancient trilobite.
Rushed are our seasons, therefore we admire
Illogically all that smacks of old,
New you alone, fulfilling mind’s desire,
Enchant as mirror-magic unforetold.
Varying facettes spin round and round
At speeds increasing as thy potent spell
In turn to black spins white, white black around
Links chained by fate relating heaven, hell.
Let this be written, I shall ever be
ANTipodes from who’d be false to thee.

CXXIV


If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd,
As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered.
No, it was buildèd far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thrallèd discontent,
Whereto th'inviting time our fashion calls:
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short numbered hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.
To this I witness call the fools of time,
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.

Sonnet CXXIV

Should this, my love, be held as wishful thinking

Should this, my love, be held as wishful thinking,
A mutant bastard born of style and trick,
No time would Time confer, but in a blinking
Destroy all trace, snuff out unhappy wick.
Rhyme and metre are no accident
Intended just to draw self-centred praise,
Nor shall it crash through critics’ discontent,
Enduring still, will emulation (c) raze.
View this as paying insufficient rent
And spending on you less than you deserve,
I have one life, - without you wasted vent -
Love will from this intention never swerve.
Love calls as witness till the end of time
ANother Theme would be a heinous crime.


CXXV

Wer't aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which proves more short that waste or ruining!
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all and more by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet foregoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?
No; let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mixed with seconds, knows no art,
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborned informer! a true soul
When most impeached stands least in thy control.

Sonnet CXXV

So turn to old Khayyam and from his cup


So turn to old Khayyam and from his cup
Allow yourself to sup while time remains;
Now sip the wine, take bread and verses up,
Drink deep of love till Time Time’s servants claims.
Remember that the couch on which you sit
Is soon to seat new tenants in your stead.
Neglect not what one whit improves life’s wit,
Exclude naught unwrought you’ll regret when sped.
Verse vehicles the message, bread sustains,
And wine enhances till it summons sleep: -
If three in one combine, contentment reigns,
Love flourishes, then nourishes, none weep.
Like old Fitzgerald, this speeds to the press,
ANd To distress aims not, nor to impress.


Sonnet CXXVI

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour;
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st
Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st:
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:
Her audit, though delayed, answer'd must be,
And her quietus is to render thee.


Sonnet CXXVI

Sickled Time is sick with jealousy,


Sickled Time is sick with jealousy,
As no end to thy fame can he envisage,
Now cold bold Cupid seems compared to thee,
Darts cast aside, he venerates thy visage.
Regrets are vain, one reigns above all praise,
In Time is tuned as universal hum,
No longer men seek golden calf or craze,
Each alpha to omega’s half thy sum.
Vain imitations through the centuries
Awash are, sink, each superficial fad
Ignored is by the thoughts it sought to please,
Left stranded by Time’s tide - nought can I add!
Let thus these verses end as they began,
ANew To thee return, and fresh fires fan.

CXXVII

In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;
But now is black beauty's successive heir,
And beauty slandered with a bastard's shame:
For since each hand hath put on Nature's power,
Fairing the foul with Art's false borrowed face,
Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,
But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace.
Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black,
Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem
As such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,
Sland'ring creation with a false esteem:
Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe,
That every tongue says beauty should look so.



Sonnet CXXVII

Since when, fair friend, has black been counted fair,
And where - save Sheba - bore it Beauty’s name?
Now deem hidden darkness beauty’s heir
Denied time’s progress deep in shadowed shame.
Refusing Nature’s chart, Art’s borrowed face
Inner emptiness oft seeks to gild,
Novel fad sad features does embrace, -
Etched eyebrows, breasts refilled, blushed powders spilled.
Vision enchanting, - only one remains
As lighthouse beam where all else drowns in dark, -
Infinite gleam my every hope sustains -
Lustre none can muster, - yours the spark.
Lantern you are throughout eternity -
ANTithesis of all who’ve lost life’s key.

CXXVIII

How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st,
Upon that blessèd wood whose motion sounds
With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st
The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,
Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap
To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,
At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!
To be so tickled, they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,
Making dead wood more blessed than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.


Sonnet CXXVIII

Since when, fair friend, has black been counted fair

Since when, fair friend, has black been counted fair,
And where - save Sheba - bore it Beauty’s name?
Now deem hidden darkness beauty’s heir
Denied time’s progress deep in shadowed shame.
Refusing Nature’s chart, Art’s borrowed face
Inner emptiness oft seeks to gild,
Novel fad sad features does embrace, -
Etched eyebrows, breasts refilled, blushed powders spilled.
Vision enchanting, - only one remains
As lighthouse beam where all else drowns in dark, -
Infinite gleam my every hope sustains -
Lustre none can muster, - yours the spark.
Lantern you are throughout eternity -
ANTithesis of all who’ve lost life’s key.

Sonnet CXXVIII

Sweet music, sweeter fingers softly playing,
Accompanies the senses as they dream,
Newts, toads and adders too are softly swaying
Danger past, in peace which none blaspheme.
Refusing envy of those knaves that seek
In cheek to print a kiss upon thy hand,
Now I who’d harvest one fond glance fall weak,
Ecstatic, silent, by thee blushing stand.
Vertiginous I watch thy instrument
Adorèd fingers, luscious lips, embrace, -
If only I were wood, my hollows sent
Love’s music - where would be rhyme, time and space?
Let arrant knaves thy echoes seek to snare,
And think with me thy harmony to share!

CXXIX

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoy no sooner but despisèd straight;
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallowed bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, - and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.


Sonnet CXXIX

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,



Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Are spirits wasted in a well of shame,
None can deny all action aimed at lust
Disgusting is, and perjured, merits blame.
Repudiated even as committed,
It is a crime which worms within the soul,
Nor ever tried, should sentence be remitted,
Expelling reason treason senses stole.
Victim of its own success the dream
A circle turns, pursuit possession spurns,
If cake is savoured, tart ache turns the cream,
Leaves bitter taste to waste what churned joy earns.
Little is this strange, the world knows well,
ANd yeT who shuns the heaven that leads to hell?


Sonnet CXXIX

Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Are spirits wasted in a well of shame,
None can deny all action aimed at lust
Disgusting is, and perjured, merits blame.
Repudiated even as committed,
It is a crime which worms within the soul,
Nor ever tried, should sentence be remitted,
Expelling reason treason senses stole.
Victim of its own success the dream
A circle turns, pursuit possession spurns,
If cake is savoured, tart ache turns the cream,
Leaves bitter taste to waste what churned joy earns.
Little is this strange, the world knows well,
And yet who shuns the heaven that leads to hell?

CXXX

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound:
I grant I never saw a goddess go, -
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.


Sonnet CXXX

Sun shines far brighter than do Sandrine’s eyes

Sun shines far brighter than do Sandrine’s eyes,
And coral’s redder than her ruby lips,
Nor is she wrinkle free, - Time onwards flies -
Drops in Time’s well each time the faucet drips.
Roses bloom with beauty red and white,
I see such fairness seldom in her cheeks,
Nor in her breath feel such perfumed delight
Exuding as each rose in love bespeaks.
Violins string more symphonic sound, -
Although, ‘tis true, I do adore her voice, -
I keep both feet too well upon the ground, -
Like this I can but validate my choice.
Love does not blind to faults in her combined,
Although None Trick, - her heart alone can bind.


CXXXI


Thou art so tyrannous, so as thou art,
As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;
For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make love groan ;
To say they err I dare not be so bold,
Although I swear it to myself alone.
And to be sure that is not false, I swear,
A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,
One on another's neck, do witness bear
Thy black is fairest in my judgement's place.
In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,
And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.


Sonnet CXXXI

Swift in succession speed sweet thoughts when I


Swift in succession speed sweet thoughts when I
Allow myself to contemplate thy smile.
Nefertiti resignèdly would cry
Defeat, to that defeat self reconcile.
Reprimanded, ever I’d defy
In earnest my accusers. Put on trial,
No need for taxing lawyer I descry.
Entrusting truth to heart, not art to style,
Verdict awaiting, I no heavens cry,
And put my trust in justice, know no guile.
If Love be Love what’s writ here’s far from fly, -
Let he who Love has known ne’er love deny.
Lave me of accusations of false praise, -
All Now Turn to the judge, to hear Her phrase.



CXXXII


Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,
Have put on black and lvory mourner she,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O! let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.



Sonnet CXXXII

Soft eyes I love, and yours do pity me

Soft eyes I love, and yours do pity me,
Acknowledging that your heart with disdain,
Now treats me, - don dark black, in mourning be,
Dare look with understanding on my pain.
Rising sun no tithe hath of your glory,
It fills the ruddy east with jealous blush;
Nor can the night star equal to your story
Ever prove, - west’s claim to fame must hush.
Victory will come when eyes and heart
At last unite and gracefully allow
Infinite longings no stark lines can chart,
Loosen thongs, all vile wrongs disavow.
Life has not met thy equal in its track,
ANd They are foul who thy complexion lack.



CXXXIII

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Is't not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engross'd:
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;
A torment thrice threefold thus to be crossed.
Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,
But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;
Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail:
And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

Sonnet CXXXIII

Stolen from myself, in jail I lie

Stolen from myself, in jail I lie,
And tenfold tortured, wounded to the quick,
Now would tormented heart for bail apply,
Defeated and mistreated, spurned and sick.
Respect by all is sought, to some is due,
I languish like a puppet on a string.
No longer know myself, owe all to you,
Emprisoned here I suffer triple sting.
Victory was thine the day we met
And still you choose my heartbreak to ignore,
I see one sore ten thousand more beget, -
Let salt tears soften your heart’s hardness’ core.
Let mercy’s fill instil true joys forever
ANd Temper the exile that all smiles would sever.



CXXXIV

So have I now confessed that he is thine,
And I myself am mortgaged to thy will,
Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous and he is kind;
He learned but surety-like to write for me,
Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.
The statue of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou usurer, that putt'st forth all to use,
And sue a friend came debtor for my sake;
So him I lose through my unkind abuse.
Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me:
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.

Sonnet CXXXIV

Stay of execution do I seek


Stay of execution do I seek,
And plead for mercy, nakèd lay my heart,
‘Now’ is imperative, because ‘next week’
Destroys all rest, still keeping us apart.
Rest’s known no more! Before we met, a dream
I dreamt which I courageous waited on.
Now is that dream fulfilled, mind teems with team,
Except that Fate’s betrayed by weighted game.
Valiant in name, perhaps the claim was wrong,
And I, love’s fool, to cruel delusion wake.
I left my mind behind, gave soul its song, -
Love raked all in as Life’s casino (s) take!
Left hopeless I have but myself to blame, -
At No Time did you swear you’d share my name!

CXXXV

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will, '
And 'Will! to boot, and 'Will' in over-plus;
More than enough am I that vexed thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no faire acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in 'Will' add to thy 'Will'
One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more.
Let no unkind 'No' fair beseechers kill ;
Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will';


Sonnet CXXXV

Some find, in seeking, pleasure undefined

Some find, in seeking, pleasure undefined,
And, finding, founder, treasured hopes unfound,
Nor do they measure pleasure, often bind
Deceptions into warp and weft unsound.
Resounding the unhappiness assigned
In rebound to vain echoes that hopes sound.
No pleasure long is treasured which, once found,
Exhausts the finder by his (s) own haste fined.
Value no show, (p) raise simple, (s) oft and kind,
And (b) ring to mind - though others fair abound -
In one sole soul are heart and head (t) win-bound;
Links free of chains which need no paper signed.
Let us pair, caring, share no celibate, -
ANThem « an die Freude » celebrate.



CXXXVI

If thy soul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will',
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Among a number one is reckoned none:
Then in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy stores' account I one must be;
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will'.

Sonnet CXXXVI

Severed from all but vocal echo, I


Severed from all but vocal echo, I
Attempt to build me chateaux in the air.
Now crash the castles, fallen from the sky,
Discouragement sends signals of despair.
Risks I did take, more with myself than you,
I lose my stake, mistaken thought and deed,
Now all seems lost, I know not what to do,
Endangered is my soul, - sad soul indeed.
Visibly the side-effects take toll
As weight from body is transferred to mind,
I’m slave to Circe, swine in zombie shell,
Laced with needles both before, behind.
Leave me, I wither, stay, I’m torn apart, -
ANTlers of the dilemma of my heart.



CXXXVII

Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchored in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood has thou forgèd hooks,
Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferred.

Sonnet CXXXVII

Sweet Cupid, what's this trick played on my eyes?

Sweet Cupid, what's this trick played on my eyes?
Apart from One none can they recognise!
Nations rise and fall, but Beauty’s thrall
Doubts doubt, flouts doubts, throughout rides out Time’s squall.
Regeneration energy supplies, -
In turn I burn and freeze while lover’s sighs
Ne’er quit my breast, nor leave me rest withal, -
Even in my dreams, it seems. Play ball!
Vanquished though I be, heed humble cries
And free me from One smile, or otherwise
I’ll not be fit for any other call.
Lord Cupid, don’t you care where arrows fall?
Love makes men blind, and many pairs of glasses
Are Needed To adjust to Time that passes!

CXXXVIII

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearnèd in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O! love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.


Sonnet CXXXVIII

Should she swear she be one with Time and Truth

Should she swear she be one with Time and Truth,
Although she lies each word do I believe.
No matter if, naive, at heart a youth,
Despite all, I’ve been caught in web she’ll weave.
Reminded of her graces, now I shed
In seconds years which wrinkled ring by ring,
Now silver thread to gold turns back, the head
Enchanted is by spells none else can sing.
Valid judgements jostle fantasies
As age turns young, as tongue spurns age, - page turns
In her reflections, all life’s mysteries
Like light’ning clear, drown fear, as love’s fire burns.
Lie I with her and lying she with I,
And Now The faults in both, forgotten, lie.


CXXXIX

O! call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue:
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou loverst elsewhere, but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy might
Is more than my o'erpressed defence can hide?
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been my enemies;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

Sonnet CXXXIX

Say that you love another if you can,
Abjuring love which might be ever shared,
No love like mine could shine which, unprepared,
Did light those fires which each new day they fan.
Reply to my complaint! Plot better plan!
In detail paint to show you ne’er can care -
Nor think you might - for one who here would dare
End separation ‘twixt fair maid and man.
Value not these sparks of love began,
And set me free to perish, love ensnared.
I phantom feel, who Time’s glass has despaired.
Love you’d refute? - from sight and hearing ban
Love’s servant who for love alone does write,
ANd This trial end! - I’ll make my peace with night.


CXL

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; -
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know; -
For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee:
Now this ill-wrestling world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believèd be.
That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.


Sonnet CXL

Sorrow’s inspiration can express

Sorrow’s inspiration can express
Appreciation of this pleasure-pain,
No wisdom in the world could ever dress
Diviner picture, nor more sweet refrain.
Responding to your absence I do grieve,
In prayers for future tryst discover bliss,
No notion of time, space, can bring reprieve, -
Each (k) night does long to live his day-dream’s kiss!
Vain fears may prove, or longings just as vain,
Alternate agonies wash through the mind,
Is pain in waiting joy, and is joy pain, -
Love plays for both, though both stay ill-defined.
Lift eyes to end this pain, let both feel joy,
And now turn each to each, where love won’t cloy.


CXLI

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote.
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted;
Nor tender feeling to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy pround heart's slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

Sonnet CXLI

Suffice it that you know ‘tis not my eyes


Suffice it that you know ‘tis not my eyes
Alone that love, for they great errors note.
Nor yet my heart alone that love supplies,
Despite the fact that both upon you dote.
Restored from fainting spell, your tongue’s sweet tone
Inspired my senses to their highest pitch, -
Near, yes so near, upon the telephone
E’en far from you I never felt so rich!
Vanished all distance was, it seemed to me,
As questions old to answers new gave way.
It was as if we’d trapped eternity -
Like prisms captured colours can convey.
Life can true bliss discover through insight, -
Abjure Not This, which wings you through Death’s night.

CXLII


Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O! but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robbed others' beds' revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
By self-example mayst thou be denied!



Sonnet CXLII

Second thoughts tentacle sticky fingers





Second thoughts tentacle sticky fingers
Around a scheme to render homage due.
Neutrality turns sceptic, what love lingers
Disturbed by denial anticipates adieu.
Rising suspicions questions asks of motives,
Intuitions clash among themselves, -
Nostalgia for vague, idyllic votive, -
Ends seem more confused the more one delves.
Versatile post facto justifications
Are jumbled up. Conscience, confused, sprawls across
Illogical idea(l) s and motivations,
Lumped all together. Truth is at a loss.
Lost seems that hope which lit life for a while,
ANd Themes of scope, rich wit, strife meet, are on trial.


CXLIII

Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch
One of her feathered creatures broke away,
Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay;
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent
To follow that which flies before her face,
Not prizing her poor infant's discontent:
So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,
Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind;
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,
And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind:
So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will',
If thou turn back, and my loud crying still.

Sonnet CXLIII

So, as a careful housewife runs to catch





A feathered creature which would break away,
Nests down her babe and makes all swift dispatch
D own chasing that which she would sure have stay;
Responding, her forgotten child does chase
In tears to catch up she who concentrates
Now just on what does fly before her face,
Effacing from her mind her poor child’s fate.
Vain do you run from that which flies from you
And I, your child, chase you, yet far behind,
If your ambitions fail to me be true,
Let me be kissed and mothered, please be kind.
Love, then I’ll pray you always have your ‘Will’,
ANd Thou turn back, and my loud crying still.




CXLIV

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman, coloured ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride,
And whether that my angel be turned fiend
Suspect I may, but not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another’s hell:
Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.


Sonnet CXLIV

Spliced loves I have, of comfort and despair




Spliced loves I have, of comfort and despair,
And like two spirits do suggest me still:
Now one, the better, is a man right fair
Destructive, t’other, - woman coloured ill.
Rusing to tempt me hellwards female evil
Intends to draw the better from my side,
Now would corrupt my soul to be a devil, -
Exchange his essence pure for her foul pride.
Victor, vanquished which is which? Besides,
Attentive, I may much suspect who’s fiend,
It seems each in each other’s hell resides -
Linked both to me they are, I both befriend.
Light or dark, who’ll win? we live in doubt
Until bad angel the devout turns out.




CXLV








Those lips that Love's own hand did make,
Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate',
To me that languished for her sake:
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tong that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom;
And taught it thus anew to greet;
'I hate' she altered with an end,
That followed it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who like a fiend
From heaven to hell is flown away.
'I hate' from hate away she threw,
And saved my life, saying 'Not you'.


CXLVII

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desesperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,
As random from the truth vainly express’d;
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.


Sonnet CXLVII

Sometimes





Sometimes surprising sweetness sweeps souls shy,
Amity allows as all appear
Now naturally neonats, nor near
Drear Death’s demesne deigns dawdle, - dares defy
Reactions ready-made, responses rye.
Iconoclasm isn’t insincere,
Nefarious, notions new ne’er sneer.
Endearingly expressing ethos eye
Vouchsafes virtue, vileness vilifies.
Appreciate all arts, able adhere
Idealistic, in intentions clear.
Lighthearted lady lead, leave lewd lust, lie.
Latent loveliness’s laser light
Announces Now The Acrostic Novel Tight...

28 October 1992



CXLVIII


O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head,
Which have no correspondence with true sight;
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love’s eye is not so true as all men’s: no,
How can it? O! how can Love’s eye be true,
That is so vex’d with watching and with tears?
No marvel then, though I mistake my view;
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.
O cunning Love! with tears thou keep’st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.


Sonnet CXLVIII

Sandrine Dreams

Sense, sensibility, so sweetly signed,
Are allied aspects and announce as aim
Natural nobility. No name
Draws dazzling danswer daintier designed.
Radiantcy resplendent, rare, refined,
Is illustrated ideal. I inflame,
Newborn now, needing Nefertiti, claim
Enlightenment eternal. Ends, entwined,
Describe dear demigoddess. Dreams, devined,
Recognize, redeemed, responsive reign.
Everything’s ecstatic! Earth, explain
Away an air as artfully aligned?
My mistress, myocardium, my mate,
Siren serene send sustenance sedate...

28 October 1992



CXLIX


Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not,
When I against myself with thee partake?
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake?
Who hateth thee that I do call my friend?
On whom frown’st thou that I do fawn upon?
Nay, if thou lour’st on me, do I not spend
Revenge upon myself with present moan?
What merit do I in myself respect,
That is so proud thy service to despise,
When all my best doth worship thy defect,
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?
But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind;
Those that can see thou lov’st, and I am blind.


Sonnet CXLIX

Surprise seduction signals siren song
As aims and aspirations all ally,
Nereïd nymphet nears, now dares deny
Dark Death, defying darkness. Dons ding dong
Revealing revels, rite ringing! Wrong
Is incredulity. Ideals imply
Needed norms negations nullify.
Empathy, entente, - each evensong
Vital values validates via son.
All altercations abject are, awry:
Inner indulgence idleness is, I
Link life, love’s letters, longing learning long
Lustrous lighthouse lantern’s lucky light
A Name Turns All Now To A Nova Tonight.

28 October 1992


CL


O! from what power hast thou this powerful might,
With insufficiency my heart to sway?
To make me give the lie to my true sight,
And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?
Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,
That in the very refuse of thy deeds
There is such strength and warrantise of skill,
That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds?
Who taught thee how to make me love thee more,
The more I hear and see just cause of hate?
O! though I love what others do abhor,
With others thou shouldst not abhor my state:
If thy unworthiness rais’d love in me,
More worthy I to be belov’d of thee.

Sonnet CL
Single State

Single state seems seemly, some souls state,
Abjuring all alliance alternate,
Never needing Nature, and abstain,
Disregarding dreams, dates don’t dare deign.
Repent rash ruminations, renovate
Impressions icy. Inklings, if innate,
Now need no neutral notices inane.
Enthusiastic, ever entertain
Victory, - vanity vote violate.
Awakening authentic always await,
It is idealistic, intimate, -
Life linking loves longstanding, lusting lain.
Last lines, laggard, leeway leave, laugh late.
A-muse-sing_ly Noting, Then abate.

28 October 1992