My love is the best
Salesman in the known world…
When regarding me.
Sonnet IV: Her Remembrance of My Music
From out his music here doth ’round me spin
A fabric, quickly woven, as of light,
From golden thread of gossamer, so fine,
This shield around me now; and I inside.
And here! I see the hues of light within,
That dance about me, furious in flight;
And here! I see his music tryst and twine
And mimic and encircle and collide.
His song that maketh touch and sight therein
And sound, and taste, and even scent, unite;
Where memory of past and future, mine,
Shall join, and like a prism, subdivide.
So why reach out when all within is right?
For here, confined, doth all my soul reside!
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 4: How I Play
Regarding my music,
My sweetheart wrote me a poem;
And so beautiful.
I fear it was lost,
forever lost or taken;
lost to both of us.
I recall some lines;
I remember its structure;
But not perfectly.
And I very well
recall how it made me feel,
long ago, in spring.
So I give my love
All that I now remember,
Within this sonnet:
Sonnet III: Her Praise
Her heart, so prayeth she, be still, this dream,
Wherein such favour, she recalleth, find;
Such things so little are, as may surprise:
So often unexpected, his attire;
In candlelight, he doth angelic seem
To glow, as though with Heaven’s light combined;
So oft remembered, sherry coloured eyes,
To her, do seem to light the world entire;
And dreameth of his words with such esteem,
So thrilling, when of heart, or though of mind;
Then beautiful his music, as so wise
She thought his words, as ever both inspire.
Supreme, thy praise doth find me; and so kind,
I blush to prize, my love–my heart’s desire.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 3: So Many, Thy Words
So many, thy words
That, of me, hast thou written;
Mine, like water flow.
Sonnet II: Her Remembrance of Me
So sweet, that dreameth she, when dark the night,
Of he, her sweetness knew, and were as sweet
His understanding, patient of her thought,
That grew, to her remembrance, by the hour.
In these, as felt within her heart, requite;
So he, her longing knew, as made to beat
As beat his own, though she, her heart dore not–
At rest, so lonely she, within her bower.
And dreameth she, as he, of her delight;
That he, her sweetness, doth partake, when meet
They next–when they their final meeting sought–
An this be soon, so dreameth she, empower,
As so it might, our lives to make complete–
That ought, my love, with untold blessings, shower.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Intro 2: Her Faith
To she that kept faith,
Such nights: she dreamt but many,
As hath very few.
David Emeron: Sonnets 