What miserable virus plagues ourselves!
Confinement has no worser timing here:
My heart to sweetest flower; flew and delves,
By law my love and body shan't be near.
How winter's birth increase my chested void:
As rainy droplets patter lonesome raps,
And wailing winds have sunny songs destroyed,
Sweet birches sway, then on my window taps,
The bud-less stems and greyish, silver haze
That borrow mist this sadden sky deform,
To nights of bitter chills and cloudy maze,
Increase as all redraw into her form:
But only sight, unable to be held
To self impelled by her that space withheld.
If where in mind I think of her the most
Become of body made immune of flu;
Tho' darkness; I would race in speeds of ghost
To where she bears self isolating rue.
Shall then no boredom make my lover's day
Unless her ears do tire of loving things,
Yet sweetness make the weeks a word's bouquet
And has to time what angel's have with wings.
But no, tho' ill I'm not, yet ill remands:
My body stays essential to the cause;
That hers is not diseased what spreads by hands,
By hands that give seem also take applause;
So love forbids, not just for law is done
What makes us two's the same that made us one.
Two governments, two writs proclaim we part;
Where she's in hers and I so under mine,
Yet fools impose a lawfulness on heart;
Is they against the law of lovers' twine:
For love is not as easily unstrung;
Possessing not of atoms man can split,
Nor scope review or scientific tongue
Explain what ecstasy make lover's fit,
Nor why monogamy's love practiced style;
That gives disdain on one whom cheats on theirs,
It is the miracle with no vial;
Invigorating one, creating pairs.
But prove here love's material therein,
Then love was never love nor birthed within.
Now if misfortune wraths upon my health
And quarantine becomes my household mode,
Would hers by reassurance become my stealth
And pass the illness wrought my locked abode?
Forget to ask, for hope repletes her eyes,
And ardent mine there baths in their effect;
That many worldly woes, in them just dies,
And out her smile is mine absent defect.
Withholding none, incapable of less;
Only most truer loves in love persuade
One out of this; a virus made distress,
In lockdown or ill-health; my cure's been made;
For as I wait for vaccines to be cures,
Recalls the health her mighty love allures!
Four splendid sonnets that blend into one outstanding poem. Of what I've read of yours, this is your best so far, the best of the best, that is. You have captured a love isolated with sublime turn of phrase whilst maintaining a perfect flow and a superb rhyming scheme but it's the sheer beauty of your poetry, that overwhelms.
It is indeed the time to pour our souls out about this terrifying, frustrating, and seemingly endless confinement taking us away from the world of spring, and our loved ones. For "love and law" indeed we do this thing, and watch as our lives become more and more like a drawn out movie plot. I haven't read a sonnet in quiet a while - yours did the format justice. It was a nice touch to label them with roman numerals. It is a lot of work, thought, and creativity that lent you to creating such wonderful flow while maintaining all the rhymes required. Thank you for sharing your work.