Ah, sigh



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXI)


Strain 'cross the distance to see (like t'avail)
Those crimson buds the oak puts forth fr'intents
Lo, evry Spring, their poignant note is't? thence
Sae dull in this oercast light that I fail
To ascertain but echoes of't in pale
Excuse, the Blue Jay chiding whom for sense
As we would breakfast late? me glad from hence
"He" is not here, but I'm what? in betrayl?
That "fly" caught in the web deceit wove fer
My capture, struggling, though I lisp off too,
The Scriptures evry hour.  To be is poor.
I miss the dove.  It's been days now.  I'm blue
So laugh oft to feign I don't give as twere
Aught hoot, though I'm ashamed.  And what is new?

30Mar19c