Never have the stars looked so pale and plain;
I haven’t half the heart to look up.
My heart will not sing the same notes again
As once it did from the mountain tops.
Love’s low sweet breeze does not come this way twice;
What fool am I to seek it in this place?
And in its place, the wind of love’s demise
Comes sweeping its confectionery ways
Off to distant lowlands and the seas,
Consumed by creatures big and terrible
And wash to shore to the roots of the trees;
Not in my hands are they ever to fall.
High and low, wherever fate doth brings me,
I will not see love’s face, if it kills me.
Sonnet VII
May 13, 2021
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