Sonnet VIII: Shadowlands

My love, to shadowlands, again thou dost
Return; I may not see, I may not know
These lands wherein thou wanderest; what light
Enchanted dost thou follow through the mist.

Though taken fancy hence where fancy must,
I may not follow thee where thou, below
Might sink beneath; nor even take to flight,
Nor feel what sky thou touched, nor what thou kist.

Nor may perceive, but that they turn to dust,
Such shadowed forms, where shadowdust may blow;
Nor climb where hast thou flown; whatever height
To know of what these shadowlands consist.

Yet trust my love to find where doth she goe
In dark her night; whereto her path may twist.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:

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