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 VI: If I Should Sleep

Perchance I slumber, whilst she watcheth mee;
So deeply do I sleep; nor chance to wake.
Though doth, to touch, she lovingly adore?
Oblivious, I still yet slumber on.

How now, to look upon me whole, doth she?
I sleep; so warm a breath the night wouldst make.
Doth she, my contours, lovingly explore?
So doth my rest, so shan’t I stir thereon.

And doth my love withal abound such glee,
Caresses deeply striven, then partake?
Though all, should I desire to wake, the more,
I barely stir; though should I, whereupon.

But see! my love but breathe my name; forsake
Mine oft adoréd sleep, do I, anon.

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

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In a few days will repost a sequence…

…which was and is essentially the catalyst to the Shakespeare project in that the insight I gained in writing these nine sonnets caused me to understand Will Shakespeare’s 154 sonnets in a way in which I could not have done had I not written these.  I have posted a link to this sequence to the right.  See the link entitled “Notes to Myself,” which I have also included here for convenience.

The Gods of the Copybook Headings | David Emeron: Sonnets

Since I have recently pushed out a humble sequel: The Knights of the Copybook Headings, I proudly offer up Rudyard Kipling’s Original:

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

  • Rudyard Kipling

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “Stick to the Devil you know.”

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “The Wages of Sin is Death.”

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “If you don’t work you die.”

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

via The Gods of the Copybook Headings | David Emeron: Sonnets.