Sonnet I

I hoped to wake upon an autumn morn,

yet find that morning’s sun has naught to give.

Instead I find that, from this dream, is torn -

the image of the love for which I live.

I’ll find no comfort hidden in this light,

but into shadows I must now retreat.

Awake, my heart, not till the winter’s bite!

And find some rest for summer’s weary feet.

This day, it serves now only to remind

that night, eternal, reigns within this soul.

That dreams be favoured high above this life,

that paradise cannot be loved in whole.

I find myself now chasing earthen eyes,

who’s face cannot be seen still in this life.