Sonnet 4

I know our passion is now forever lost.

Your fair heart taken by passing pale breeze

and left stranded on the cold brittle frost

that lays on braids of weeping willow trees.

Should I not gladden to see your face turn

to grant welcome to others who's love comes,

though torn apart my soul with jealous burn,

I seek release from desire that still drums.

I look not at the pillows deep indent,

the down filled remnant of want once felt,

that reminds me of all that is now spent,

the yearning that with no alarm did melt.

Yet here you stand and grant me warm embrace

as towards me, once again turns your face.



Sonnet 5

If by fortune should my shade be revealed

make not unkind sport of this heart worn fool,

this wraith who waits by shadow concealed

for merest glimpse of his bright passing Jewel.

From what now impotent crown did she fall

to grace the land with such a treasure rare

that the boldest men fear her name to call

should they be rendered frail by beauty's stare.

All the precious things that I hold so dear

are but trinkets and falsehood of no worth

when by fate's kind mercy her voice I hear

and see her shining bright upon the earth.

Guilty of some foul deed or broken rule

must I so live with such a penance cruel.


Sonnet 6

Should you look at those of wealth and power

and think of me as a man with riches shorn

know I prize the touch of springs first shower

and the songbird herald of breaking dawn.

Do not feel pity for one whose head sags

glimpsed at times labouring past your doors

for I shelter amidst the northern crags

that rest upon the rolling heathered moors.

I throw not the sweetest wine down my neck

or feast on food that makes the table groan

but sip Adam's ale drawn from fairy beck

and eat that raised by these hands alone.

And I shall have lived that much I know

while he just existed in a life of show.