Sonnet

 

SONNET

 

I have never written a sonnet, and I never would,

But for the memory of our love I will write one to remember.

You are eternal summer—lovely, temperate, good—

I will love you countless ways, and after death, better.

I love you close, as your hand on my chest is my hand,

Or as your eyes, the sweet moment I fall asleep, close.

I love you white, as a desert of pure, relentless sand,

Or green, as the mountain heights of fresh water flows.

You are the bursting hope of dawn, dusk in luminous desire.

You are the abounding body of a river, rain falling to console.

You are William’s immortal fancy, Elizabeth Barrett’s fire,

Pablo’s darkling secret between the shadow and the soul.

Forswear my foolish oath—it is folly to say never!

Our sonnet and our love will now abide forever.

 

Our sonnet and our love will now abide forever.