Art thou, my muse, an ever-changing moon,
Whose gentle beauty and courageous soul
Has blinded all my judgement, and will soon
Enslave my reason, and my heart control?
These silken threads, these bonds which do us join,
May 'ere long break apart, leave us forlorn,
Alone, abandoned, the debasèd coin
Of amorous delights, and love foresworn.
Know then that half of you is lost in me:
Your eyes, your lips, your blushing cheek, are all
In me confounded, in my solemn breast
Confinèd, prisoners to my passion, blessed
And cursed with love's irresistible call,
Subject to the moon, and all her beauty.
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Author:
tundrol (
Offline) - Published: March 5th, 2020 15:52
- Comment from author about the poem: I wrote this sonnet for a woman I met on a train between Florence and Bologna. Unfortunately, she was Italian and didn\\\'t speak much English. Still, we got on OK, but we had to split up when her husband found out. One of those sad stories of which life is so full.
- Category: Love
- Views: 25
Offline)
Comments1
Such beautiful words
Felt every word , it atacked me with memories of the one i loved and lost.
Thanks for your comment, Ameluz. I hope you find (or have found) another love.
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