Sonnet18: I Love Thee, Well, I Love Thee Poem by Pijush Biswas

I love thee, well, I love thee
Thou art as kind as the crescent moon
And the balmy tree, tonight, must swoon
Uncleverly to thy scent equal to be,
Tonight the Earth must take a pretty coarse
Or, the Temple bell must have cadence
To our welfare, and see us, hence
Whereof we must seek better than worse,
That is- seeking for Love, both thou and I
Must appear to be a Happy Dun
Not shadowy glen of strangers would pun
Nor would come frown of mortal eye
To dethrone us- or our fire of desire
Nor appear, tonight, blame to mire.






COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS
10/15/2016