Tag Archives: Italian Sonnet

Sonnet IV: The Valiant and the Craven

Posted by David Emeron on

So valiantly hast thou thy battles fought
For everyone we love, as well as we.
Our fathers and our mothers lived to see
The grandchildren thy blood and valour bought.

And what a crime that none today are taught
The sacrifice thou chos’t as thy decree,
The horror thou hast braved so valiantly,
Thy blood with which their apathy was wrought.

How they will rage when next the bugle sounds
And none are left to stand before its call.
How they will curse thy gravestones one and all;
Yet none may wake thee in thy hallowed grounds.
With ramparts left unmanned, they’ll know the why,
And know thy sacrifice before they die.

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

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Sonnet III: The Vigilant

Posted by David Emeron on

“I teach the use of ordinance to boys.
It’s just a job, not so unlike your own.
I wake up every morning to the drone
Of my alarm, and teach them what destroys

“And kills. A job like yours,” he said, “employing
Skills ones discipline requires. Condone
The harm or not, my job inspires alone
Young men who sought this life. When mine deploys,

“We, rough and ready, make the day our own.”
“But can you quit?” I asked, “you’ve pledged to keep
It–like a wife–for better or for worse.”

“And, quit or fail, I won’t be sought nor thrown
In jail; nor watch my wife, from heaven, weep
Upon my empty coffin in a hearse.”

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

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Sonnet II: The Devoted

Posted by David Emeron on

So fine are ye who hold the line unsung
By any but those proud few men who know–
By virtue of their own devotion; though
They boast not how they crossed an ocean; young;

An age at which so few would broach, among
Themselves, such grave and worldly things; who show
The world, by deeds, that matters which bestow
Such life! such death! affairs of kings! who slung,

So rife with breath, together, tales told
And sung, and written down, with reverence;
Who know the price which, sometimes, must be paid;
Who, though as any, fear malevolence,
Dare throw down tyrants, numbering untold;
Who pay with blood–the sum that freedom weighed.

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

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Sonnet: Perfection

Posted by David Emeron on

When hast thou seen, as meant for only thee,
Such eyes as widen gaily at thy sight?
And at thy voice a face that ever bright
Hath lit as though thy soul hath set it free.

And hast thou heard a voice so peacefully
Conformed, as though it found a place to light
As warmly and as permanently might
A thing as claimed its perfect place so be?

Or hast thou not this wonder ever seen?
And hast thou not this perfect moment felt?
Nor felt thine own eyes widen, as for thee
Delighted by thine own, that face hath been?
Hast not thou love, as hath my love for mee?
Hast not thine heart within perfection dwelt?

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Sonnet III: Where I Rest

Posted by David Emeron on

So quiet thou beside me; so austere
Dost thou confide thee, silently to sleep.
Angelic thou, delightful; though as clear
Dost thou alight believe thou safe to keep…

Thee well protected, do I; and so sweet
Thy dreaming true; mine angel wouldst appear.
And though thou art about me; so discrete
And so devoutly, shall I hold thee near…

And dearly do I wrap thee, my surround
I would enrapt, be to mine own replete.
Delight at once to hold thee and abound
That once untold, rejoice for thee complete…

And wound about thee tightly; and so deep,
Profound, and knightly… love thee; yet I weep….

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

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Sonnet II: Sleep and Death

Posted by David Emeron on

And yet, thou, quiet at my side, asleep
Hast thus me graced.  Thine own sweet breath,
Thy fairest face so still, but not as death,
As once I thought the only link to keep

Us ever joined would be.   So dark, so deep
Would be our misery; our fate, beneath
A cruel, unblinking sky, would us bequeath,
Or God should grace us, but to weep;

For dreams forsaken, squandered; and to those
From which we shrank, unbidden, with resolve,
With fear, or anger; yet our lives revolve
Around the one, and only one, we chose.

Though only death was certain, dearest wife,
‘Tis better still that it began with life.

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

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Sonnet VII: Lotus

Posted by David Emeron on

I lid mine eyes, yet not in sleep, but wake;
Not hid to prize the darkness, nor to see;
Nor magnify some other sense; nor be
Bereft of beauty; nor once more forsake

The heft of duty, as a way to break
The thrall of such cacophonous debris.
Nor shall so thin a veil set me free
From youthful ties, nor hail its mistake,

Nor truth, nor lies, but merely grant repose;
Which waking purpose, clearly, I’m inclined
To take, whenever I may know such throws
Of agony or bliss. And when I find
Such irony as this, I then expose
Myself, to all the wealth, in all my mind.

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