For I, thy gifts supernal might suppose,
Thy daggered figure, cut, as by a blade,
Enough impending, chilling to impose,
Enough avowed, to make the world afraid;
Enough, without the whisper of a roar,
To quail, as judgement sharp would juxtapose;
Enough, when it were seen, enough before,
To pale when it has been, that next arose.
Enough to chill, undaunted though profess,
Might they; When they behold their fear, deplore;
Enough, this fearsome scrutiny to lessen
Say, that judgement least, is judgement more:
This naked cut, no man would dare to dress,
None adorn, none to aid, and none to bless.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 
Ouch!
heh…
Very nicely done, my dear. Well put, as usual.
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“I calls ’em like I sees ’em,” which (very lucky for me) you once found, though most distressing, charming also.
And this may be either a quote from Popeye, or a famous umpire?
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…and yet
one boy
gird ’round in shining innocence
did so dare.
“I thank my G-d upon every rememberance of you”
-Gibran
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Divine. Thank you for sharing. X
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You are most welcome.
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absolutely amazing words can take my breath away, love it…
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