A Shakespearean Sonnet: If Last you Hear
Why should I, so gladly, cling to you?
Is it not in the means of your constraint
That I, here, am tangl’d in your view
As only the assumption your wishes dare paint?
The doting girl, forever in yearning hope,
Forever finding comfort in first stars
Or coins in fountains, will now from such elope,
As no more can her heart bear’st opening scars.
You, in your words, will always find a string
In heart, or phrase of unplanned implication
That seem to me your presence closer bring,
But same to you, just contrast my elation.
I ask, if last you hear, to not let time grow old
Lacking such knowledge: that I was yours to hold.