SONNET 27
By JH
Sayyar
My love can’t stop her sharp tongue,
As a baby can’t bear a chilly night,
You behind back all pleasures wrung.
I weep when you my poor heart smite.
Love consoles love like a cool breeze,
You mock at me with the silly face:
Looking at you my all wishes cease,
O Lady I am like your winter grace,
What you think in lone I know not
What I think, written in my verse.
People know when death me caught,
After I am gone the world you curse
My Mary my wisdom right-wing,
The left natural your praise I sing.
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