I have been ready to compose for you
Endless arrays of sonnets at your word.
Speak but to me, and I will sing anew
Of what you will - the love that in me stirred
When first I saw you, or the way your smile
Spreads clouds away and breathes in fresher air,
The sweet curve of your body or the style
Your laughter has, how every weary care
Drops from my shoulders when we two embrace,
Or how our conversation, never-ceasing,
With or without the vision of your face
Has kept my ardor bubbling and increasing,
Or anything at all. I'm ready: speak.
Or else keep silent and destruction wreak.
No comments:
Post a Comment