SONNET 47
By JH
Sayyar
Our love like a compass O Fair, true,
Of which one leg moving the other still
Lover the moving leg, the fixed you,
If the fixed fixes, come back I will.
If the fixed moves not the circle round,
If it moves the circle leaves the center,
If the fixed strong the moving leg sound,
My love happy when your fingers banter
If the soil good the crops are more fine,
In your heart soil I do plant a love plant,
Let it be grown dear, it will be divine,
Without your kisses loneliness haunt
When on my bed my mistress sleeps,
Through eyes into soul my love creeps.
0 Comments