‘H’ the marginal letter. Vowel or Consonant?

Consider this:

As perfect, thee, thine image, as thou art;
Sublime, as sculpture’s ideation, see;
Though, only in my thought, ideals exist,
Mine hands believe perfection thus to be.

Do not I trust this truth mine hands impart?
When next they touch conviction wrought of fire.
This certitude of which mine eyes insist?
When they confirm withal mine hands acquire.

Wherefore our brothers, hath He given heart?
That, for the other, petuous, doth burn.
For she, from whom our brothers’ ribs consist,
Do all of us, so undespoilt, yearn.

For one, with art, we praise His strength thereof;
The other, doth enlist with us, His love.

Proper grammar in the archaic sense. In cases wherein ‘my’ or ‘a’ precede a word beginning with ‘h’ this is what is generally done. This differs in more modern times between British English and American, wherein ‘h’ is treated more like a consonant, eg. ‘an hotel’ rather than ‘a’ hotel. Possibly this is because most American dialects are harsher, or rather use more air. British English is more like Spanish in that it reserves breath more–particularly in the upper class dialects. Speak Spanish or upper class British or even upper class Bostonian with a candle flame in front of your mouth and in all three cases the flame will not dance. Where as with some dialects the flame will dance about. There are even some dialects before which the flame will not survive at all.

So consider the same offering thus:

As perfect, thee, thine image, as thou art;
Sublime, as sculpture’s ideation, see;
Though, only in my thought, ideals exist,
My hands believe perfection thus to be.

Do not I trust this truth my hands impart?
When next they touch conviction wrought of fire.
This certitude of which mine eyes insist?
When they confirm withal my hands acquire.

Wherefore our brothers, hath He given heart?
That, for the other, petuous, doth burn.
For she, from whom our brothers’ ribs consist,
Do all of us, so undespoilt, yearn.

For one, with art, we praise His strength thereof;
The other, doth enlist with us, His love.

The question is: Do I follow British convention. I am using British spell-check after all, giving a certain colour to my writing (as opposed to ‘color,’ heh!) I do this because I feel it would generally help me match the flavour of the mostly archaic style of writing I enjoy to write–and which my sweetheart enjoys to read.

The problem arises, at least for me, because I might like the sound of ‘my hand’ instead of ‘mine hand.’ It is a small distinction, sound is more important to poetry than to other forms of writing, so it is something to think about.

Yet I do observe other traditional conventions, such as capitalising pronouns dealing with the God of Abraham or of the Christians or even other mythologies, so perhaps I shouldn’t quibble over this one.  There are those cases where I do like the sound of ‘my’ better than ‘mine.’  with other vowels, I always use ‘mine’ and ‘an,’ because the sound is almost always more fluid sounding if I do.  But when dealing with ‘h,’ it can be an either-or proposition.   Even in cases where I think ‘my’ is better than ‘mine,’ I can speak the phrase aloud a few times and feel I can get used to it either way.

What sparked this latest curiosity is that I noticed after my sweetheart posted a comment about the above, that I had not been consistent.  This indicates that, for the three occurrences, at least subconciously, I chose one or the other based on the sound I liked best.  Because in general, where there is no contest, as in the case of other vowels, I use ‘mine’ and ‘an’ pretty automatically these days.

Sonnet XII: How Am I Kept

When doth she strive to him in comfort keep;
And strive, withal, her heart, and sweet, her hands;
To soft his dreams, so gentle on their way,
His thoughts to soothe and calm his restive mind,

That quick across the vasty star-fields leap;
So never may alight the shifting sands
‘Pon any mote to pause that might delay,
Of all his thought, its whirling dance combined.

For, never doth requite his mind in sleep;
Not even as the God of sleep demmands’.
To wake him, doth she hear temptation say;
Yet I’m, to her illusion, not inclined….

Desire, thou bent all deep toward what commands’
My peace; for next the day, this night would find!

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

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Intro 12: All of This, Her Love

I strive within my heart and out through my hands
To soft your dreams on their way,
And to soothe your mind
That skips so quickly across the vast star-fields,
Never lighting
Upon any mote that might give pause
To the whirling dance
Of your thoughts that never stop
Even in sleep.

To wake you is temptation
But I never fall prey to simple illusion.
My desires bend all toward
Your peace.

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Sonnet XI: Her Peace

So dreameth now my love again in sleep
And smileth angelic, she; though dream
Not angels, as His children may create;
As we alone were from His image made.

And deep, she doth within, such wonder keep;
Such visions, perfect in her care, doth seem.
My love so doth me gift, in perfect state,
This firmament some deity forbade;

Wherefrom I am forbidden still to leap
And soar and glide, so bright above, supreme,
So realised, hath she made, though inchoate,
Where she, these gardens of delight, hath played.

But still I weep, that safety, my esteem
May not create, when demons there invade.

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

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sonnet X: As Thou Hast Seen

Of mee, thy love, hast thou such wonders seen,
Though many true, hast not thou seen these all;
Hast not, my dance as stole thy breath away,
So long before and far removed from thine.

Imagine thou what doth breathtaking mean,
If watch me dance thou wouldst as watch me fall.
And long before, this beauty I convey,
So lovely, this I played, who’s bow were mine.

And this, by thee unheard, and thee unseen,
Hath made the harsh to weep, the weak to pall.
Yet heard, hast thou, my song most every day;
And seen thou, throngs, as water turned to wine….

And yet, thy mien my love, could angels thrall;
One day, in Heaven, show me these divine.

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

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Intro 10: Will I See?

Things I have not seen…
But wish that someday I shall…
In another life…

In another time…
Although my faith is lacking…
I want the next life…

So I may see you…
Dance for me, and play for me…
As never I’ve known….

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