First. Ever. Sonnet...
I love to watch him, carefully and still
Who played out ardour, called me gentle names
I sit up here, upon what was our hill
And cry the world abroad my lover's fame.
His eyes, his heart, I fain would hold aloft
His clever fingers, soul of his embrace,
His well-made arms, all graced with hairs so soft,
His swift and shapely legs, and O! his face.
But see, his loving guardians, you are hard
Whose rough words me from rightful place do cheat
For I am sworn to take this noble shard
And part my false love now from all his meat.
And you who saw his acts but did not chide
You'd best hope that from me you too can hide.
