Muse, why has't thou left me in such disgrace

Sweetest thief, once thou hath stolen mine heart?

Waiting for thee, such angst as is mine face.

Longing for thee, for once held words to start.

As love waxes and doth forever wane

Thy heart hath left mine, broken, yet to mend.

To hold thee only, now only to blame

When wilst this turmoil stop, if ever end?

Onst thou werest mine briefly, now poverty

Of wit, of breath, leaveth mine without cause

Thy love, now gone, was't all that I couldst see

Sweetest love, onst forever held, ne'er was.

My muse, undying love for thee ne'er told,

Thou candle dim, goeth out, I grow old.

03/19/2007

Author's Note: I was reading some early sonnets today....

Posted on 03/19/2007
Copyright © 2025 Joe Cramer