Wilt thou again experience this vain,
Delectable, self-referential ache–
This self-indulgence once again allow?
To thine shalt thou thy paradox awake

From sleep when hast thou found and felt this pain?
What timely melody, or importune,
Might interruption beg thee disavow?
But wake! Shout thy day! Though thy Words impugn

Themselves when once They leave thy lips; profane
Shall They be made by whips thou canst not quell;
The base shall scourge profane, an They endow
Them with thy Pearls, when swine, as swine, retell.

Though long remains the day thy Words to fade,
Sleep now, brief vigilance, not yet unmade.

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

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