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 12: All of This, Her Love

I strive within my heart and out through my hands
To soft your dreams on their way,
And to soothe your mind
That skips so quickly across the vast star-fields,
Never lighting
Upon any mote that might give pause
To the whirling dance
Of your thoughts that never stop
Even in sleep.

To wake you is temptation
But I never fall prey to simple illusion.
My desires bend all toward
Your peace.

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