Sonnet 9 Poem by Justin Reamer
Sonnet 9
To what love do we owe,
With our lives in this place,
When the sky is white as snow,
Where I can't see your face?
To what do I know of thee,
When I do not understand,
When I am about to be,
What you should reprimand?
I want to know your name,
That beauty that stirs,
I know not of your fame,
Or of your fine furs,
But I do know of thy grace,
Which is soft as thy face.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/26/2024 8:00:03 AM # 1.0.0.1119
