When winter rages and icicles form,
When monstrous tempests sweep over the land
When winds blow hard in the gathering storm,
Birds freeze and fish expire, my love will stand.
When the summer sun beats down on our heads,
Burns the parched earth and sets forests in flame,
Silencing the chattering streams whose beds
Lie stony and dry, my love will remain.
But tell me, gentle maid, what thinkest thou
Of this immutability of love?
Does it inspire, inflame or amuse you?
Does it move you? Will you consent to be
The apple of my eye, my faithful dove,
My all and ever more, my here and now?
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Author:
tundrol (
Offline) - Published: March 16th, 2020 05:04
- Comment from author about the poem: I would like to help to re-instate the word thou in the English language. It seems to me to be a great loss, and one that passed unmourned. And for what reason? Hence, in part at least, this sonnet.
- Category: Love
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments2
oooh 'eck. Whilst i respect thy right to hold these desires and i respect thee as a poet thou can tek thine self to thuther side o'planet afore i'll join in.
Nicely versed mind u.
Thanks for your comment, but what makes you think that it is addressed to you? Maid you might well be, fair you are not. Your ugliness shines through your comment.
Nah i knew you weren't aiming at me.... I was just having a bit of fun in my reply. Maid i will never be, but i have long been ugly enough to take a hit on the chin LOL.
So Helena has her baby and all's well that ends well.
For thine part in bring thou back into the English language, I salute thee. Great Poem T
I thank thee great Crow.
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