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 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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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:

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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:

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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:

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