No lovelier of cause has pen to write
Your praise; my love's own glorious inspire:
Conveying love to black on naked white,
Returns by color, soaked in ink's perspire.
O, could by rhyme suffice your eyes that I
Convince by wage of heart; my love's here true?
Is truthfulness the star to pupil dye
And clarity; the heart in starry view?
Then bluish gems, that aqua twice in yours;
I humble here love's options made of two:
Accept my ardent verse where ardence stores,
Or seek the words another prose for you.
If worthier a pen on me replace,
How he out-blushed this ode, is my disgrace.
Remove my page then, far from where you stand,
But count the steps you pace as you reverse;
And sum there noted by your careful hand;
Amount the total tears that I disperse.
Sad offspring of my eyes would tarry not:
Like scattering of soldiers they'd unite;
And seek for mine your place, your grace and spot
Albeit puddle, pond or river's plight.
My watery of knights would surely find
Your source, that from them caused their liquid rue:
As you may travel far and fast as mind,
Yet you have distanced none the far you knew:
My words maybe where Saturn hides the sea
But then your heart is Saturn, hiding me.
Then why conceal, deny by chested vase
My adoration, born'd in host it lives?
You form my paradise, why seek in Mars;
A love's debris a rounding ring relives?
For they of heart write emptiness like space
And float the idle years of reverie;
Never to touch beyond a planet's face,
Is love to waste; proclaiming ever he?
Replete your eyes with hearted cause of mine,
I ask; not to mislead your eyesight's will
But reason; to accept what here define
A love already yours possessing still.
O' Saturn'd heart, your loveliness gives thought
Absent your favor here, this three's to nought.
What measure raise my words that eye'd no more
By mind and heart, both for these lines are filled?
Condemned into the realm of there before,
And here this forth with them as they are spilled,
Into a sadden pit that ink dissolves
By lava; love so equally does dread,
Where unrequited drowns, till there absolves
And what was once my love and all, is dead?
No! Sweetest muse, is me I doubt not love;
Mere thoughts we could be parted have me lost
But in my deepest fear's love's deepest glove:
In darkness love shines brightest, hope is glossed!
Oh truth, have I now found you for my eye?
No lovelier of cause: has proved no lie!
A very, very clever piece of writing Mark, well done fella, M :)
3 years ago
by Tony Grannell
A grand cause, indeed in a grand poem of four sonnets by no finer a sonneteer. It is remarkable how you can do this, the continuity throughout never falters, so, too, the meter, poetics and especially so, the rhyming and all held together in perfect harmony. Simply excellent.