Gaze upon me, O Lovely, and beware,
Or as thy frosts unfairly come, rejoice.
Fair-play with fortune will confound Despair
That, hideous with pride, hath shown its voice.

For never-resting, God’s anointed here
Excel: to verse thy numbered days, to bear
This hell, and lend thee summer; pray to year
Thy days, and keep thee and thy children fair.

In they, our seasons, prisoners are we–
As checked, and sapped, and pent: as tyrants fear
All eyes the beauty we distil may see–
Who gift these days to winter they who sneer:

Though thieving Time all substance yet destroys,
We left thee more than wretched He enjoys.

• Rededicated to the men and women
  of Sierra Sciences in whose work
  I am in a unique position
  to feel great appreciation
• David Emeron
  Originally written
  to my younger self

This sonnet is part of a short, or
possibly at some point, very long
sequence; click here to read it all:

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