Monday, March 1, 2010

Sonnet 501

Compared to thee, beauty itself is flawed
‘Tis a sweet joy to gaze long on thy face
To be near to thee is a kiss from God
Words sent from thy lips are like His embrace

But my love finds not its mirror in thee
The force of man has no weight on the heart
A choice must I make to yearn silently
And pray love’s echo to swiftly depart

Yet struggle oft proves what something is worth
So my will affirmed stands poised for a war
For thou art by far most precious on Earth
And trials wrought drive me on all the more

To quietly fade, or endure love’s strife
I want that which would bring joy to thy life.

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