Sonnet IV

I took a flying song into my heart
That seized me, shaken, primavernal weather
Shall never vie to loose the light-forged art
Afflicting us, unwarned, to lie together.
Last night I took the air from him who dotes
Upon my smile, which he compared to sections
Of quartered limes, revering forms, like notes,
That touch of symmetry. Upon reflection
Entire nights long, that mendacious strain,
So sick with damp, the hungering mouthfuls clutch,
With avaricious groans, the tightening rein.
The trite deception's hardly worst as such.
The string lies stretched across the span and shakes
When struck by wind that desperation wakes.