(sonnet # CCCLXI)
Morn but belated dawns, or steals forth quite
Concealed, as Autumn mourns the loss of Spring
And Summer's fairest treasures, latest being
The grievous measures just inflicted, sight
Confounded, beauty's well-nigh fled; the blight
Of year's end seems a very death, whose sting
Fall's dear delights has conquered, all to bring
Joy down to naught, in barrenness indict?
For what fault, eh? The region cloud masks day,
Who treads with sullen step as near forlorn
As any doomed soul might; night's dim dismay
O'ershades, and requiem demands. Love worn,
With romance struggles yet to paint th'array
Of silhouettes with cheer, Life's bier forsworn.
06Dec11
D34a