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.

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Sonnet II: Her Remembrance of Me

So sweet, that dreameth she, when dark the night,
Of he, her sweetness knew, and were as sweet
His understanding, patient of her thought,
That grew, to her remembrance, by the hour.

In these, as felt within her heart, requite;
So he, her longing knew, as made to beat
As beat his own, though she, her heart dore not–
At rest, so lonely she, within her bower.

And dreameth she, as he, of her delight;
That he, her sweetness, doth partake, when meet
They next–when they their final meeting sought–
An this be soon, so dreameth she, empower,

As so it might, our lives to make complete–
That ought, my love, with untold blessings, shower.

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Sonnet I: His Favour

At rest she lieth down within her bed,
Doth close long lidded eyes, though not to sleep
In her repose for soft, round limbs to rest;
And then, in longing yet, her thoughts toward him:

Of words so closely shared, or left unsaid;
Such secrets, told or not, as cause to weep;
With his remembrance tight against her prest,
Though now, so tattered, once yet thought a whim,

Her tears to calm, his favour held instead,
That holdeth now her heart in safety’s keep,
To lull, so sweet her countenance, to rest–
Then close her eyes again, as night grew dim.

And once we wed, doth dream my love now deep,
As blest, our lives entwined, as any hymn.

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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!

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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.

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sonnet X: As Thou Hast Seen

Of mee, thy love, hast thou such wonders seen,
Though many true, hast not thou seen these all;
Hast not, my dance as stole thy breath away,
So long before and far removed from thine.

Imagine thou what doth breathtaking mean,
If watch me dance thou wouldst as watch me fall.
And long before, this beauty I convey,
So lovely, this I played, who’s bow were mine.

And this, by thee unheard, and thee unseen,
Hath made the harsh to weep, the weak to pall.
Yet heard, hast thou, my song most every day;
And seen thou, throngs, as water turned to wine….

And yet, thy mien my love, could angels thrall;
One day, in Heaven, show me these divine.

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Sonnet IX: Thy Bouty

Of mee, my love, hath she my bounty seen,
And hath she of this bounty seen but all;
Hath seen, as heard, and felt, my music play;
If that I love, or that were truly mine;

Hath watched me towering creations glean,
In theory penned, or realised, standing tall;
Hath known the speed at which, once under way,
Some skill, once undertaken, I refine;

Hath seen me write of love, or vent my spleen;
With verse or prose delight her or appal;
Hath she the whole of me, in full display;
Doth praise; with admiration, doth enshrine.

Between such adulation and enthral;
Pray, shall I tell, of that I know, of thine?

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

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