SONNET 191
By JH Sayyar
Cocks in spring season in jovial mood,
Make gleeful notes forgetting old worry,
Why in lovely weather with me you rude,
All my evil days in love grave I burry!
Your thinking changes with the season,
My loving heart be-weeps on the bed,
I do believe in fate, there is a reason.
My love; willful wills I do see all dead.
What is luck? Nothing but a written will,
Unchanged may be changed like a truant,
As the tramps taught by kind motherly bill,
If heavenly Muse in leisure you do grant.
My Muse flies with the wings of Muse,
Flying powers into soul your kisses infuse.
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